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••SHE'S A WIZARD FOR SPEED" 


(See pas^e 130) 


On and Off Shore 

OR 

The Adventures of a Cape Ann Boy 


BY 

GEORGE WHITEFIELD D*VYS 

Author of " Pencilings,” Etc. *' 



THE ABINGDON PRESS 
Iftetti aotS Cincmnati 



Copyright, 1914, by 
George Whitefield D’Vya 








Contents 


1. Runt Takes a Stand, - - - 

II. A Dash for Freedom, 

III. Some Early History, - - . 

IV. ‘‘The Boy^s Voice,” - 

V. In Boston, 

VI. Runt Wins Promotion, 

VII. ‘‘ Up TO Runt Estey!” - 
VIII. Charlie’s Great Scheme, - 
IX. Its Development, - - - - 

X. Making Things Happen, - 
XI. As Runt Told It, - 

XII. Runt’s Nightmare, 

XIII. The Rescue of Cap’n Dan Ellis, - 

XIV. A Fo’c’stle Night, 

XV. An Adventure, . - - - 

XVI. Leaves from Cap’n Dan’s Log, - 
XVI 1. An Interruption, - - - - 

XVI H. Joe’s Discovery, 

3 


PAGE 

11 

20 

32 

41 

50 

63 

76 

84 

90 

98 

108 

114 

126 

139 

150 

164 

176 

184 


CONTENTS 


XIX. 

XX. 

XXL 

XXII. 

XXIII. 

XXIV. 

XXV. 

XXVI. 

XXVII. 

XXVIII. 

XXIX. 

XXX. 

XXXI. 

XXXII. 

XXXIII. 

XXXIV. 

XXXV. 

XXXVI. 


PAGE 

Off Race Point, - - - 190 

Runt’s New Friend, - - 201 

Out With the Lobsterman, - 210 
“A Home on the Bounding Wave,” 216 
Runt’s Grizzly, - - - - 226 

With the Boys, - - - 237 

Runt’s Last Shot, - - - 246 

Gathering Clouds, - - 255 

Dark Skies, . - - . 265 

In the Meshes of the Law, - 272 

At the Bar of Justice, - - 283 

The Witness, - - - - 292 

” Something Doing,” - - - 297 

“ Fair Play,” - - - - 304 

Relentless Davy Jones, - - 312 

The Promise, - - - - 321 

When the Cuckoo Calls, - - 327 

“A Great Finish!” - - - 337 


List of Illustrations 

“She’s a Wizard for Speed,” Frontispiece,!/^ 

Facing Page 

“An Old Type Craft Sure, But a Good 

One,” 38'^ 

Magnolia Point, Magnolia, - - _ - 52 

Cap’n Dan, 126 ^ 

Along The Wharves, - - - - 138 

The Monument, 156 j/* 

The Raging Sea, 312 ^ 



Preface 


T he incidents and adventures narrated in 
this story are founded mainly upon the 
lives and doings of three men. One of them 
was my father, Captain George C. D’vys, who 
came of a line of seafarers and was an ardent 
lover of the ocean. He was of powerful 
physique and easily the strongest man I have 
ever known. As Skipper Estey, I have tried 
to portray him in his varying moods, with his 
nobleness and weakness — a most singular man, 
yet one of the bravest that ever trod a deck. 

The quaint, droll, philosophical, heart-to- 
heart chat of Captain Dan is typical of many 
Cape Cod masters who have braved the deep 
for generations, and who, hale, hearty, full of 
humor and wisdom, still form the greater part 
of the Off Shore fishing fleet. 

In Runt, the hero, I have aimed to show 
an American boy in the actual though unusual 
scenes of his eventful life, from his courageous 
entrance into the great, strange city to the days 
when he faced and learned the lessons that 
Old Ocean had to teach him. 

7 


PREFACE 


Since the days of 1875, when the demand 
for fish as a food suddenly went far above 
normal, scores of daring skippers have been 
engaged in a never-ending struggle for big 
fares and a record trip, and no romancing is 
needed to give zest to any tale of life aboard 
a fisherman. The actual experiences in this 
adventurous life make a story of thrilling in- 
terest. 

THE AUTHOR. 


Rowe, Massachusetts, 


On and Off Shore 


CHAPTER I 


Runt Takes a Stand 

“Strike one I” 

“Two strikes!” 

In clarion tones the umpire’s words sounded 
over the ball field, and a prolonged wail of 
despair went up from the several hundred 
schoolboys who had gathered behind third base, 
while from near first the captain of the home 
team raised a megaphone to his lips and called 
to the base runner at second: “Steady, Runt; 
it is up to you now, sure thing! Your hit was 
a corker, and your steal was a dandy!” 

Then addressing the boy at bat, he said, 
encouragingly: “Swat it, Sandy, swat it! Wait 
for a nice easy one. Whew! that ball went 
wide — their pitcher is way up in the forerig- 
ging ! Line out the next one — make it a 
homer!” 

A roar of derision from the loyal rooters 
for the rival nine greeted his words, and as a 
spur to their perspiring schoolmate in the box 
a hearty cheer rang out: 


II 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


^‘R. M. T. S. Rah! Rah! 

R. M. T. S. Rah! Rah! 

Hurrah — Hurrah — 

Training School — Training School — 

Rah! Rah! Rah!’» 

The young base-runner recognized the ex- 
ultant ring in that stirring cheer, and well he 
understood Its meaning, for it certainly looked 
as if the Manual Training School boys would 
carry the ball back with them to Cambridge. 

“Be ready. Runt,” came the captain’s voice 
again; “get there if you can!” 

“I will if I can, sure thing!” Runt Estey 
determined, for even at this moment he was 
thinking of the new uniforms which a local 
enthusiast had promised the team should they 
win. “I will get there if I can ! Anyway, they 
can’t keep me glued to the bag too long!” 

In the fifth inning the doughty Cambridge 
nine had scored the only run of the game on 
a passed third strike, a steal, a sacrifice, and 
a hit; and now, with that rumble of despair 
yet ringing In his ears, the young base-runner 
felt somewhat unnerved, yet ready for a dash. 

Whiz! 

“Three balls!” 

“Go it. Runt ! Go hard ! Slide, boy; slide ! 


RUNT TAKES A STAND 


Aha, there ’s nothing the matter with that steal ! 
Runt, boy, you ’re a jewel I A precious jewel I” 

Yielding to a sudden impulse as the box- 
man hurled the ball, Runt had leaped forward 
and dashed madly for third. The Cambridge 
backstop had fielded the ball sharply and well ; 
it was a close play, yet there was no dispute 
at the decision when again the mighty voice of 
the umpire rang over the field: 

“Safe!” 

The greatest excitement prevailed, the 
Gloucester schoolboys being fairly wild with 
joy, while the visitors from just beyond old 
Boston town redoubled their efforts to encour- 
age their pitcher, the while realizing it was any- 
body’s game to the finish, for it would be hard 
to find a sturdier or more manly-looking lot of 
lads than the well-matched contestants. 

“Now, Runt, ready again! Vinif vidi, 
vici/* called the captain through the mega- 
phone. “Steady, my boy; it’s now or never, 
and no mistake! I told you their slab artist 
had gone aloft, and I think now he ’s got nearly 
cross-eyed trying to locate the plate. O-o-o! 
Hurrah — a beauty! Sprint for it, Sandy — 
make first! Well — ^well — well — a muff! Glo- 
rious — glorious ! Go — Runt — go hard — and 
the game is ours!” 


13 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


Good and hard Sandy had bumped the ball 
into the outfield, and pandemonium reigned. 
Yet amid the hoots from one side and the 
cheers from the other, Runt could distinguish 
the captain’s voice, and, unheeding all else, he 
dashed madly for home, one thought spurring 
him to the limit — the uniforms may yet be ours. 

The right-fielder of the Rindge Manual 
Training School nine was quick to recover the 
ball. He was a big, husky fellow, and with all 
his might, straight as an arrow, he speeded it 
to the shortstop, who quickly shot it to the 
catcher at the plate. 

Runt saw the play, paused, and then turned 
to regain third. “It ’s do or die now,” he 
muttered, grimly, “and I hope it ’s do/” Then, 
seeing his retreat cut off, he suddenly turned 
about, and this action was followed by a dash, 
a leap, a headlong dive for the home plate. 

“Safe! Score Estey!” 

“Hurrah, we are! We are, hurrah! 

Hurrah we are the Gloucester High! 

Yi-yi ! Gloucester High !” 

It was a mighty shout, and local colors 
waved as not before that day, and Runt under- 
stood it all. Sandy had made second on the 
attempted run out, and now the heavy batters 

H 


RUNT TAKES A STAND 

were to come to bat, and victory seemed a ccr- 
tainty* 

His classmates had cheered their pony hur- 
ler on many a previous occasion ; now, however 
— well, it seemed different. The boys were 
frenzied, and Runt was their hero! 

“I got him fair and square, sir; I did, for 
a fact!” 

The Cambridge catcher had thrown down 
the ball, torn off his mask, and rushed upon 
the umpire vigorously protesting the decision, 
and he was speedily joined by the whole team, 
all loudly clamoring for an out. 

‘‘I saw the play,” declared the official, 
sternly. “Not another word from any of you ! 
Play ball!” 

“Score Sandy!” 

It was a breathless gasp, and for a moment 
even the knight of the indicator seemed be- 
wildered; then, realizing his position, he called 
quickly: “Score Sanderson. Gloucester wins, 
two to one!” 

In the confusion of the combined attempt 
to run Runt out, followed as it was by the on- 
rush of the entire team upon the arbitrator 
of the game, the hero of the timely hit had 
been strangely ignored. Noting this fact, and 
quick to grasp his opportunity, he had pranced 

15 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


along to third, leaving for a grand climax his 
short, desperate rush across the plate. 

Victory had been snatched from the jaws 
of defeat. 

Runt Estey stood at the plate panting and 
seemingly confused. His heart thrilled within 
him as he heard the jubilant cheering of his 
schoolmates, yet there was no answering smile 
upon his face. He faltered a moment, and 
then a look of determination came into his eyes. 

“Mr. Forbes,” he said, calmly, “the catcher 
is right. The ball struck my hand just before 
I touched the plate.” 

“Then you were out?” queried the aston- 
ished umpire. 

“Yes, sir; but in the mix-up and dust only 
he and I could know it.” 

With a wild yell of delight the Gloucester 
loyal rooters had come rushing upon the field 
to bear away in triumph the two heroes. 

“Hold on, here!” shouted the umpire, wav- 
ing them* back brusquely; “hold on, I say! 
Estey says he was out. Then of course that 
play ended the game. I reverse my decision; 
the score stands: Cambridge one, Gloucester 
nothing!” 

With tumultuous feelings Runt witnessed 
the wild scene immediately following this edict, 
i6 


RUNT TAKES A STAND 


which ended only when the boys in brown and 
white had been carried from the field on the 
shoulders of their admirers. Then the blue 
and white hosed captain rushed wrathfully 
upon the little pitcher. 

“What does this mean?” he demanded. 
“You’ve robbed us of our game; actually 
robbed us of it!” 

Runt faced him boldly. 

“What does it mean?” again stormed the 
captain, and a score of his schoolmates echoed 
angrily, “What does it mean?” 

“A stiff upper lip. Runt,” said Sandy, coldly, 
“and the game was ours! Even if you were 
hit, we had the decision; so, why didn’t you 
keep mum?” 

A few hisses followed, and these so fired 
the hot temper of the boy that, assuming a 
menacing attitude, he shouted scornfully: “Be 
half way fair, you fellows; not a hiss on your 
life ! I ’ll not stand for that, not by a good 
deal! If any of you want to punch my head, 
now is the time to sail in; you ’ll find I ’m on 
deck all right. No, by George, I ’ll not stand 
being hissed!” 

Defiance gleamed in his eyes for a moment, 
and then suddenly his clenched fists dropped, 
and he said, quietly, “There ’s no call for 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


anger, fellows; I can justify myself, and if 
you ’ll keep quiet a minute, I will.” 

To his mates Runt made a striking figure 
as he stood there without a tremor of nervous- 
ness, surrounded by a surging group of dis- 
appointed, angry boys. In very truth “a runt” 
in stature, yet well built, stocky, manly, and 
with the bearing of the typical modern Ameri- 
can schoolboy athlete. 

Suddenly, as they looked upon him facing 
them so fearlessly, seized by a curious psycho- 
logical impulse, the boys burst forth into a spon- 
taneous cheer, loud, long, and hearty. It was 
the tribute of a throng of American boys to 
pluck ! 

“Go on. Runt,” the big captain called, good- 
naturedly; “go on, lad, speak your piece!” 

The cheer and kindly word almost unnerved 
the youth; yet, getting himself together again, 
he said, tremblingly: “Boys, I ’m sorry I spoke 
about punching; I am, honestly; but just then 
I could n’t help it : all the fellows in my room 
know that one day last week the subject we had 
to write upon was ‘Fair Play,’ and, quoting the 
Quaker poet, one of our fellows defined it ‘being 
for the right,’ and that fits this case to a dot.” 

His voice was firm and strong now, and the 
usual good humor sparkled in his eyes. 

i8 


RUNT TAKES A STAND 


“Go on, Runt,” came in chorus. “Go on!” 

“What more need I say?” demanded Runt, 
calmly. “I was simply being for the right. 
The ball struck my hand before I touched the 
plate. The umpire did n’t see it, but I was 
positively sure of it; so owned up. I admit I 
was sorely tempted to keep mum, for, as 
pitcher, it was harder for me to lose the game 
than it was any of you.” 

A moment of dead silence greeted this dec- 
laration. Then the burly captain exclaimed 
heartily, as he grasped Runt’s hand, “You ’re 
a little chap, Estey, but just the same you ’re 
all right, and I ’m proud of you, and so are 
the rest of the fellows I I ’m sorry we jumped 
on you as we did — I am, honestly. I like the 
stand you take for fair play — it ’s all right. 
Why, Runt, boy, I would rather have Cam- 
bridge get the game than we not win it fairly; 
for just so long as I ’m cap’n of the nine every 
game we play Gloucester High stands for fair 
play ! 

“Say, fellows!” he called, heartily, as he 
turned toward the group of surging boys; “all 
together now! Good, hard, and strong, and 
then some more. Three times three and a 
tiger for the hero of the day. Runt Estey !” 


19 


CHAPTER II 


A Deish for Freedom 

“Good evening, all ! Hullao, father I 
What have you done, marm, waited for me? 
My, but your Johnny-cake smells fine I I ’ll be 
at table in a jiffy, sure thing!” 

Runt Estey was in fine spirits, and even as 
he washed he talked. 

“We lost the game to-day, one to nothing; 
and feeling some blue about it, I just soaked 
along until I saw the Fiji was at her dock, but 
after that I made for home like a Gloucester 
fisherman before the wind. Did you have a 
good fare, father?” he asked, pleasantly, as he 
seated himself at the table. 

“No.” 

Sharp and frigid was skipper Estey’s tone, 
and as he proceeded to serve those about him 
with fried cod and baked potatoes, a silence 
and gloom fell upon the little group. 

“What does all this baseball tomfoolery 
amount to, anyway?” 


20 


A DASH FOR FREEDOM 


The sudden query was hurled at Runt with 
a fierceness that completely confused the boy. 

“What does this baseball tomfoolery 
amount to? I asked you/’ the skipper thun- 
dered, angrily. 

“If it is up to me to defend it, father,” 
Runt said, thoughtfully, “I ’ll say, as a health 
tonic it is away ahead of any other sport, even 
football. It keeps every muscle in play every 
moment; it trains the eye, and it makes a fel- 
low think fast all the time. I ’m in the game 
myself because the practice these school games 
give, fits one for a place on the varsity nine 
when he goes to college, and from there any 
good player can easily get a berth in either of 
the major leagues, and that means a big salary. 
You see I ’m looking ahead, that’s all.” 

“O, you are, eh? What’s all this talk 
about college got to do with you?” 

The boy flushed deeply, vet answered man- 
fully. 

“A college education is a part of my plans 
for the future, sir.” 

“Not by a good deal!” stormed the skip- 
per, his huge fist striking the table with a force 
that made the dishes rattle. “Not by a good 
deal 1 I ’ll not stand for that, and you might 
as well know it first as last. I ’ve had you 


21 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


ever since you were two years old; so for more 
than fourteen years now, here I Ve been slav- 
ing my life out, as it were, just for you, and 
always because I hoped some day you ’d take 
your place aboard the Fiji, and I ’d make a 
man of you, and now you talk about going 
to college. Well, I guess not!” 

“I fully intend to work my way through, 
father. Other boys do; so there’s no reason 
why I can not.” 

“Well, I won’t have it, that’s all! I’ll 
have no college chaps around me; no, nor any 
literary ones, either. So then never let me 
catch you writing any of this so-called poetry. 
All I say is this ; if fishing is beneath your dig- 
nity, then your dignity has got to come down 
a few notches; understand?” 

“That ’s not even half-way fair, father,” 
the boy declared, with a warmth akin to anger. 
“No one has said a word about dignity, and 
when it comes to fishing — ^young as I am, I 
have already been with you twice to George’s : 
twice after sword fish, and four times out with 
the seiners; and you have often told the folks 
here that I worked like a beaver, and I did; 
but just the same I had my fun, and I enjoyed 
every minute of each vacation, so that there ’s 
no call at all for that word dignity!” 


22 


A DASH FOR FREEDOM 


“Hump I Then, if you enjoyed the life, 
why talk of a college education? Why not 
take to fishing? There’s money in it; big 
money, too.” 

“It ’s this way, father, and I might just as 
well tell you now as later on : I do n’t intend 
to make fishing my means of livelihood; so, 
then, what need is there for me to get the 
experience I shall never use or need? You 
know well enough I love deep water, and I 
have thought at times I would follow the sea, 
but if I do, father, I want to begin where 
Farragut, Dewey, Evans, and such men began, 
at the Naval Academy, Annapolis. 

“You adopted me when I was a mere baby; 
you gave me your own name, and all these 
years you have been more than kind to me. 
Your folks took my mother and cared for her 
all the years she was a helpless sufferer because 
of the shipwreck. They are old people now, 
and Marm can repay them in part by being 
their housekeeper and caring for them as she 
does. As for myself, father, I never, never 
forget that you, single-handed, rescued mother 
and me from drowning, nor the care you have 
given me ever since, and I believe I do appre- 
ciate it all, and I hope the day will come when 
I can do something to repay you.” 

23 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


Runt was so intensely earnest that hot 
tears were trickling down his cheeks, yet the 
irate skipper said, icily: 

“Hump I You always were a great talker; 
but talk is cheap. I ’m no one’s fool! Not a 
bit of it 1 What I want is my pay now. All I 
ask of you is obedience — obedience to what 
I’ve set my heart on: making a man of 
you! Yes, and I’ll do it, too! I’ve often 
said to myself, if the boy won’t come with me, 
he goes with some one else, that ’s all, and 
to-day, when I met Cap’n Dix in Boston, I got 
telling him about you, and the end of it was 
I legally — legally, mind you — bound you out 
to him. He sails to-morrow for ’Frisco, and 
you go with him, and the trip around the Horn 
will do you good. You ’ll come back next year 
twenty pounds heavier and four inches taller, 
and you ’ll be a man!” 

“Weight and height do n’t make men, Ed,” 
the aged father of the skipper voiced, mildly. 
“What counts these days is integrity and indus- 
try, and you ’ll admit the youngster has ’em 
both.” 

“Just keep quiet. Dad, if you please,” the 
skipper said, not unkindly, yet with marked de- 
cision. “Say, there, mother, I ’m not scolding 
the boy; so there’s no need of you and his 

24 


A DASH FOR FREEDOM 


mother shedding any tears. This is a plain 
business talk between him and me ; that ’s all. 
What I have wanted is a boy with a little spunk 
— a sailor with spirit enough in him to go out 
and hunt down that fellow Roseland. Why, boy, 
if you found that skunk, and I could wring from 
him the half of the chart he got when he slipped 
cable with the dunnage Bill Armstrong had 
given me just before he died, why, we ’d own 
and live in the finest house in Magnolia, and 
you could have a different motor-boat for 
every day of the week if you wanted one. 
That ’s what galls me — there ’s nobody look- 
ing for him because I myself must be eternally 
looking for fish, fish, fish, in order to keep 
myself out of the almshouse. The idea of me 
slaving my life out year after year, when I 
might as well be as rich as Tom Lawson or 
any other mine owner. 

“Well, boy, I hope you understand the sit- 
uation. We leave here for Boston by train in 
the morning, and by this time to-morrow you ’ll 
be miles and miles at sea, and you ’ll be a man; 
understand?” 

“Do you mean it, father? Do you really 
intend sending me around Cape Horn?” Runt 
asked, earnestly, as he scanned closely the 
weather-beaten visage of the skipper. 

25 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


“Mean it! Mean it! Why wouldn’t I 
mean it?” 

“Because, sir, I have often heard you say 
Captain Dix was a tyrant aboard ship. No 
less than a brute.” 

Skipper Estey seemed for the moment to 
wince under the searching gaze of the boy, and 
then said, quietly: “O, well, that’s fo’c’stle- 
talk, that ’s all. Like the rest of us, Dix is 
bound to enforce discipline. Do your work 
and obey orders, that ’s all he ’ll ask of you. 
The trouble with Dix is, few men want so long 
a voyage at the wages. They show their sense 
by sticking to fishing, with the short trips and 
big shares; so, then, Dix has to depend for 
the most part on the chaps that the lodging- 
house people along the water-front can shang- 
hai aboard at night. 

“A day or so out, and those chaps come 
on deck sobered up, and when they find that 
they ’ve been shanghaied, with that long grind 
ahead, natur’ly they ’re a mighty ugly lot and 
are all ready to seize ship and make for Bos- 
ton. Just here old Dix comes on deck with 
those two huge sledge-hammers of his, and he 
knows how to use them, too; for like scat he 
can pound the stubbornness out of the most 
stubborn man that ever riled him ; and that ’s 
26 


A DASH FOR FREEDOM 


the sort Dix is; but of course you have none 
of that. All is, he said, if I brought you aboard 
he ’ll book you as cabin boy at ten dollars a 
month; so then just you be ready with your Fiji 
dunnage at ten A. M. sharp; understand?” 

“You are only joking with the boy, Ed. I 
know you are, and the joke has gone too far 
already. Let up a little, for the sake not only 
of his mother, but also your own! Shame on 
you, Ed, for making women cry!” 

The aged father spoke wrathfully. 

A moment the skipper glared upon him, as 
if to hurl at him an angry retort, and then, 
springing from his chair, he dashed it upon the 
floor as he left the table, and rushed to the row 
of hooks in the chimney-corner, from one of 
which he took his cap and pea jacket. Putting 
them on, he returned to the table and said, 
coldly : 

“Dad, I asked you to keep out of this little 
talk, and I wish you had. There ’s no joke 
about it. I adopted that boy, and now I Ve 
bound him out to Cap’n Dix. The papers are 
now in my locker on the Fiji^ ready for me 
to sign in the morning, and to prove it I ’ll go 
down and bring them up.” 

With triumphant air he strode from the 
house. 


27 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


“What do you say to all this, marm?” 
Runt asked, eagerly, as he slipped his chair 
around to where his parent was seated, beside 
the mother of the skipper. 

“What do you say, my son?” was the tear- 
ful response. “Heaven knows I do n’t want 
you to go!” 

“I won’t go, marm!” 

“But Edgar, if the captain really has bound 
you — ” 

“Excuse me, please, marm; but there is 
something I must say, and I guess time is too 
precious just now for me to lose any of it. 
As I said before, we lost the game to-day; feel- 
ing' pretty blue, I strolled home alone. Pass- 
ing Water Street, I saw the Fiji in again, and 
I said to myself, ‘I hope father had a big fare, 
so he ’ll be good-natured.’ Somehow, just then, 
it occurred to me that I should be the last one 
to say that, after all he had done for me; so 
I said to myself, ‘I ’ve been crying fair play 
to the boys, and yet I ’m not showing any of 
it to the man who adopted me, and has fed 
and clothed me for years.’ The upshot was, 
I determined to shift for myself. 

“I ’ve a fairly good education as it Is, and 
a fellow has every chance these times to learn 
more; so I ’ll begin now! I ’ll chug-chug my 
28 


A DASH FOR FREEDOM 


motor-boat to Boston to-night, and Captain Dix 
will round the Horn without Runt Estey. 
When in Boston, I ’ll try for newspaper work, 
and if there is any spare time for me, I ’ll make 
a big effort to find that chap Roseland, whom 
father says he once spied among the crowd on 
T. wharf. There ’s one other thing to do, 
marm, for I never forget the mystery about 
the fate of my own father, and to-night I guess 
I thought more about it than usual. Then 
suddenly another thought came to me. Our 
study for to-day was Napoleon, and that led 
me to say to myself, ‘I ’ll be like Napoleon; 
I ’ll make things happen, just as he did.’ And 
I ’ll do it, marm. There ’s that old saying, 
you know, ‘Where there ’s a will, there ’s a 
way.’ I ’ll prove I ’ve got the will ; I ’m 
through with this life of idleness.” 

“Not idleness altogether, Edgar,” his 
mother said, reflectively; and then, brightening 
a little, she added: “I — I — think, yes, I know 
you are right in deciding to act promptly. I 
think, however, that the captain will cool down 
in a day or two, and then, of course, you could 
come back again. 

“What a motto that would be, Edgar, 
‘Make things happen!’ I’m proud of you, 
very proud! But we must hurry, for the cap- 
29 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


tain has c^nly gone to the Fijiy you know, and 
so may return at any moment. I will hamper 
you with only a few things, and will send more 
when you get settled, if you stay. Eat some 
supper now, my boy, while I get your bundle 
ready.” 

With aching heart the little woman went 
about the task; believing, however, that his leav- 
ing home at this time was the best possible thing 
to do, she quickly determined to be brave for 
his sake; and so, when she returned to the 
room, a courageous smile lighted up her ashen 
face. 

“I stopped to write a recommendation for 
you, Edgar,” she said, gently. “There was no 
time to go elsewhere.” 

“Ah, my mother,” Runt laughed lightly, 
“did you put it good and strong, no boy like 
mine, and so forth?” 

“Whatever I have written is truthful,” was 
the quiet answer. “I said, you go with my con- 
sent and blessing, and that will assure any one 
you have not, as they say, run away from home. 
You are not running away, Edgar, for I, your 
mother, am sending you — and you must go at 
once. Here is the money you have given me 
to take care of — eight dollars, with the motor- 
boat and all else paid for, I believe. You know 

30 


A DASH FOR FREEDOM 


nothing about life In a great city, yet I feel cer- 
tain you will be able to — My gracious ! there ’s 
the captain; I ’m sure of his step! Quick, Ed- 
gar; quick! Bid grandpa and grandma good- 
bye, for they will miss you sorely. Quick! 
Go at once, and do n’t let him see you !” 

With a boyish affectionate farewell to the 
old folks. Runt caught up his bundle and slipped 
toward the back door, closely followed by his 
mother. 

The front door opened. 

“Hurry, Edgar!” whispered the mother, 
excitedly. 

“Yep, sure thing,” Runt answered, bravely, 
as their hands clasped. “Good-night, marm. 
You are sending me away, I know, but just the 
same, call it my dash for free — ” 

“Hi, there!” roared the skipper, as he 
threw open the kitchen-door. “What the mis- 
chief are you two up to, anyway!” 

Then, seeming to Instantly grasp the situ- 
ation, he leaped out into the yard, but Runt 
had vanished. 


31 


CHAPTER III 

Some Early History 

“Gosh! how that cabin-door slammed! 
What’s struck the old man, Tom?” 

“Not a prayer-book, I reckon,” was the 
grim response; “but hist, Jim, he’ll be out 
in a minute or so. He ’s been that way ever 
since we left Boston. He and a Captain Dix 
had some kind of law dealings this morning, 
and I reckon Ed Estey got the tootin’ end of 
the horn, for all the way up he was crazier ’n 
a bedbug. It ’s about that boy, I reckon — the 
little feller, you know. Runt. Ed alius doted 
on him, hoping to make a sailor of him; but 
he can’t do it; the boy ain’t got it in his blood. 
I know that well enough, for we ’ve had him 
aboard a few times, and ’t was alius the same : 
ev’ry chance he could sneak, he got off by him- 
self with some schoolbook, — and at vacation 
time, mind you. Schooling is all right in its 
place, Jim; but that place ain’t in the rigging 
of a fisherman, with the rest of us playing cards 
for’ard, or such like. Mind you, Jim, I ’m not 

32 


SOME EARLY HISTORY 


down on that boy; not a bit of it, for ev’ry 
man of us dotes on having him aboard, for he ’s 
a smart one, all right, but his smartness do n’t 
run to fishing ; see ? Anyway, there ’s some- 
thing wrong with Ed; that ’s certain sure, and 
his folks at home have had to stand it, too, I 
reckon — Hist! he’s coming!” 

“Ev’rything snug, Tom?” Skipper Estey 
called, as he came on deck. 

“Aye, sir; all well, sir,” Tom responded, 
adding quickly, “Planned the next trip, Ed?” 

“No !” the skipper snapped, sharply. Then 
stopping a moment, he called: “Tell Gene to 
keep an eye on things ; I ’m going by rail to Bos- 
ton in the morning, and won’t show up again 
until along in the afternoon. Good-night, 
lads!” 

“He ’s cooled off a bit,” Tom said, quietly, 
as the skipper disappeared. “Bu"t, anyway, 
he ’s all broken up about something — dejected, 
some folks would say, or broken in spirit, just 
as you like it.” 

The two men were seated on the forecastle 
head, pulling contentedly at their short pipes. 

Tom Dolbeare, the Fiji^ s genial and versa- 
tile chanty man, was in charge, and he had been 
joined by a former shipmate, who was roving 
about in search of a berth. The cyclonic com- 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


mg of the skipper naturally tended to make 
him the subject of their conversation. 

“A floating derelict, that ’s what Ed has 
come to be,” Jim Pitt declared, with a shudder. 
“My, ev’ry time I look at him I can fancy I see 
the birds circlin’ round him, and I can almost 
hear the doleful dirge as the water surges 
’gainst the old hulk. Ugh!” 

“I say, Jim, did you ever hear Will Green- 
wood tell how the old man came by this boy?” 
Tom asked, suddenly. 

“Never; have you the yarn handy?” 

“Sure; will you hear it now, or wait?” 

“Spin away, Tom. I knew Greenwood 
well; he was first striker on the Rolling Wave, 
my first trip workin’ on swordfish, and if It ’s 
one of his. It ’s the real thing.” 

Tom took from his pocket a huge tobacco 
pouch, thrust a quantity of the weed into his 
pipe, relighted It, and remarked: “It’s his, all 
right. I ’ve heard him tell it many the time. 
The thing happened some fourteen odd years 
back, I reckon, for It ’s been at least that sence 
I ’ve been down Philadelphy way; I was there 
then because I was caught in the same storm, 
square off the Delaware breakwater. I need n’t 
say more about that, need I?” Tom questioned, 
grimly. 


34 


SOME EARLY HISTORY 


Jim grinned as he said, “That one is old; 
tell about Ed ’s boy.” 

“My course is laid that way, Jim; so keep 
quiet. It seems Georges and old Cape Cod got 
the same kind of weather we had off Cape May 
that night, and early next morning Will met 
John Sawyer down on one of the docks. 

“The sharp-eyed ol’ man was looking out 
toward the harbor mouth, and he calls out to 
Will : ‘Sail ho ! and my, she ’s tearing off the 
distance! No doubt of her being a fisherman, 
for just now everything else afloat would have 
sails clewed down. Howlin’ winds, how she ’s 
cornin’ I Must have a dying man aboard. 
Look, you; ev’ry sail spread to it, and drawn 
flat as boards! It ’s the Fiji^ and no mistake; 
for while we ’ve got many a daredevil skipper 
here, Ed is the only one of them reckless 
enough to be so cussed daring in such a blow 
as this.’ 

“ ‘Yes, it ’s the Fiji* John declared a mo- 
ment later. ‘Look at her, will you ! She ’ll 
need more than the usual bit of caulking for 
strained seams for’ard; and it ’ll serve Ed Estey 
just right, for what I say is, if a skipper is 
needlessly reckless, it ought to tech his pocket, 
and tech it deep.’ 

“With her lee rail smothered the big 

35 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


schooner tore up the harbor, her speed startling 
the watchers along the water-front Men 
rushed to the string-piece and waited as the Fiji 
shot into the dock. When the line was made 
fast, up out of the companionway comes Ed 
himself; and without a word of greeting to any 
one, down the plank he comes, and strides up 
the dock, bearing in his arms a human form 
wrapped in blankets; behind him was one of 
the crew carrying a smaller bundle. D ’ye get 
on, Jim?” 

“Sure I do; spin away, my hearty.” 

“ ‘Hello, Dan, an’ all of ye I What ’s up, 
anyway?’ called John, speaking mostly to Dan 
Seagrave, w^ho was on the quarter. 

“ ‘Do n’t mention it; he ’s gone half crazy,’ 
said Dan, emphatic-like, ‘and so help me Julius 
Caesar, I ’ll never ship another trip with him ! 
I ’ve been hugging the forerigging ever sence 
midnight, so ’s I would n’t get washed away. 
Two men lashed to the wheel each watch,, and 
the rest hugged up under the weather rail, hang- 
ing on to the life-line for all they were worth I 
But it ’s this way,’ says Dan, ‘this storm struck 
us just about sundown last night. Just afore 
that Bill, who was to the masthead, reported 
a boat adrift off the port beam. Ed was on the 
quarter, and after a squint through the glass 

36 


SOME EARLY HISTORY 


he calls all hands an’ orders the port dory over 
to go after the boat. Mor’n that, he was the 
first man to get into it, and he hollers out, ‘Six 
months whaling in the Oshkosh would teach 
you fellers to hustle!’ And then, picking up 
the oars, away he went, alone — the rest of us 
madder ’n blazes. 

“We hove to, an’ in half an hour perhaps 
he was aboard again, with a woman and a baby, 
both dead, we thought; but he wouldn’t allow 
it, and with Christy to help him he took them 
into his cabin. 

“Bime-by he comes on deck again. ‘All 
hands aft!’ he calls; and then he says to us, 
‘Break ’em out for home. Hoist the mains’l!’ 
And then it was ‘up with fores’l,’ and then ‘the 
jumbo and the jib.’ 

“Shades of Neptune! how he made the 
tackle sing! Ev’rybody heaving away on the 
halyards until each sail was as flat as a table. 

“By this time, mind you, it was dark as 
pitch and the wind rising fast, and Dan had the 
nerve to mention the state of the barometer, 
which was then twenty-nine-six. 

“ ‘What’s that?’ roared out Ed, ugly-like. 
‘If you ’re the least bit afraid. Mister Seagrave, 
just run down and tumble into your bunk. Two 
lives are at stake, a woman and baby boy. It 
37 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


is up to us to save those lives; it ’s a time when 
men stand by,’ said he; and that was the humor 
he was in all night long. ’Pon my word, he 
kept her going with those four lowers set, al- 
though, so help me Hector, a wusser gale never 
was, especially about midnight, and him on deck 
ev’ry blessed minute! 

“ ‘All I wonder is why he did n’t put the bal- 
loon and stays’l to her I Mebby he did n’t 
think of ’em, which is something for which we 
should be truly thankful, for, anyway, there 
was n’t a man of us ever thought he ’d ever 
again set eyes on a salt-ship in Gloucester har- 
bor. 

“ ‘Nothing but a boiling wake astern, her 
sheer poles under more ’n half the time, and her 
a-groaning like mad from trucks to keel, we 
just fairly flew through space, so help me! 
Think of going to Davy Jones’ locker in an old 
tub like that!’ says Dan, disgusted-like. 

“That was Ed Estey’s first Fiji, mind; an 
old-type craft, sure, but a good one ; so old John 
spunked up a bit and said, mad-like : ‘Aft with 
you; aft with you, Danny, to call the Fiji an 
old tub ! I cal’late no abler looking fisherman 
ever rounded the Point. But, lad, what does 
your trip amount to ?’ 

38 





AN OLD TYPE CRAFT SURE. BUT A GOOD ONE 






















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SOME EARLY HISTORY 


“ ‘About all herring — more ’n four hundred 
barrels,’ said Dan. 

“ ‘Sho, now,’ says John, kind of soothing- 
like; ‘herring is ’way up now, Dan; ’way up. 
You ’ve caught the market bare. Your share 
will amount to something big; so cheer up,’ 
says he, ‘get back your old-time smile, lad, an’ 
get it quick!’ 

“ ‘I will, John; I will!’ Dan shouted; and 
then he called out: ‘Hurroo, fellers! I ’m glad 
to see you all onct again; but so help me Hec- 
tor, there was a spell last night when I thought 
it was Kingdom come with ev’ry mother’s son 
of us! Into the fo’c’stle, all of you,’ says he, 
‘and it ’s hot coffee for all hands; and whoever 
they may be,’ said he, ‘we ’ll drink to the long 
life of the woman and her baby boy, and some 
day may he be as good a skipper as Ed Estey 
himself — only not so gosh-hanged reckless, nor 
so pesky changeable in his moods, one minute 
the best man on earth, the next — well you all 
know Ed,’ laughed Dan. And then he called 
out, ‘All hands mug up again, and this time 
we ’ll drink our coffee to the health, long life, 
and prosperity of Ed Estey himself!’ 

“In those days ev’ry living man called Ed 
heartless, Will said, but as the story of his 
39 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


rescue and concern for the castaways was re- 
peated in the fo’c’stle, old John hit the general 
sentiment when he said, ‘Ed ’s got a soft spot 
somewhere, and it is n’t his brain, lads : it ’s 
his heart; and Jim, that ’s right too, that baby 
boy was the soft spot, an’ alius has been, and 
alius will be,” Tom declared, as he emptied 
the ashes from his pipe and prepared to re- 
light it. 

“Ed legally adopted him after a time, giv- 
ing the boy his own name, an’, ’pon my word, 
he thinks more of that youngster to-day than 
he does of the Fiji, I couldn’t put it any 
stronger, could I, Jim?” 

“That ’s how it looks, Tom. How about 
the woman?” 

“She ’s the boy’s mother. The night be- 
fore, during a fog, there ’d been a bumping of 
tw^o crafts, and she and the boy were tossed 
into a boat by his father just as that ship went 
down; see?” 

“Go on; what about the father?” 

“Not a word from that day to this. For 
years Ed has been set on marrying the little 
woman, but like a cod to a hook she hangs to 
it her husband is alive — but it ’s all nonsense ! 
Fourteen years — why, Jim, years ago he was 
deader ’n an Egyptian mummy!” 

40 


CHAPTER IV 


“The Boy’s Voice!” 

“Where is the boy, Lucy? What ’s up, any- 
way? I think I have a right to know. Is he 
running away?” 

“I do not think he is running, but as to that 
I can not say, Captain, for he is n’t in sight.” 

Skipper Estey stepped quickly beside Runt’s 
mother, who was yet standing in the doorway. 
“I ’m no one’s fool, Lucy,” he said, deter- 
minedly, “the minute I laid eyes on you two out 
here together I knew what was going on. Has 
he run away?” 

“No, Captain Estey, he has not run away. 
I can assure you of that, for I, his own mother, 
have sent him away! You had hardly reached 
the sidewalk before he had voiced to us his 
firm determination not to take that voyage. 
Earlier in the evening he had convinced himself 
that already he had been too long dependent 
upon you, and had decided that soon he would, 
as he said, shift for himself. Your harshness 
decided him upon immediate action.” 

41 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


“My harshness I” exclaimed the skipper, in 
astonishment. “Who was harsh with the boy?” 

“I do not know what else you would call it.” 

“Discipline, madam! Discipline pure and 
simple,” was the emphatic response. “Because 
a man speaks firmly, and right to the point, you 
women folks begin your blubbering, and all I 
hear is that I am harsh ! Step inside Lucy, with 
dad and mother, and we ’ll settle this matter 
once for all!” 

The old folks were yet at table, without a 
thought, however, of the food before them, as 
with her head upon the shoulder of her husband 
the skipper’s mother was weeping as if heart- 
broken. 

Runt’s mother immediately took the old 
lady in her arms and lovingly proceeded to 
soothe her. 

“Please do n’t cry, mother dear,” she said, 
softly. “He is only a little fellow yet; he will 
come out all right, never you fear!” 

“That ’s right, too, mother,” the skipper 
declared, as he drew his chair nearer to her. 
“Don’t you have any fears for Runt; I’ve 
often noticed that somehow or other these little 
fellows always land on both feet, always. 

“As to my being harsh, Lucy, you ’re on the 
wrong course. Let me give you the bearings. 

42 


THE BOY’S VOICE! 


Runt is dearer to me than life itself. That 
means that any time I ’d yield my own life to 
save his. I am his guardian. I took upon my- 
self obligations which I ’m bound never to for- 
get. Ev’ry living boy, Lucy, must fight his own 
way, must win his own achievements ; yet as his 
guardian I am responsible for the training he 
gets, the training that will help him light the 
battles of life; and let me tell you here and 
now, I feel the sense of my responsibility in 
bringing up a boy! 

“During the days the Fiji was on the rail- 
way just before this last trip, morning, noon, 
and night, all that boy raved about was base- 
ball, baseball; I didn’t sav a word, but all 
the time I was thinking, and thinking hard, 
too ! 

“We ran the first mack’rel into Gotham, 
and all I heard there was baseball; ev’rybody 
raving about the Giants on one side and Yan- 
kees on t’other. 

“We cruised south’ard, and upon my word, 
in the Quaker City I got more baseball; ev’ry- 
where either the Phillies or the Macks; and up 
in Boston it was the Red Sox or the Braves, 
and I was just sick and tired of it all; for what 
do I care about the game?” 

“It ’s the great American sport, Captain,” 

43 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


Runt’s mother said, quietly; “and as I under- 
stand it, is a most fascinating game. I am sure 
all our Gloucester boys are fairly wild over it.” 

“That ’s just the point I was making, Lucy,” 
said the skipper, vehemently, “fairly wild over 
it! Why men actu’ly quit working to go see 
a game, and merchants shut up shop! The 
idea ! Well that ’s just my point; I ’d save the 
boy from going stark crazy over baseball; so 
that is why I spoke to Dix. He ’ll be older 
when he gets back, I said, and he ’ll be more 
sensible; he ’ll be above the game. 

“Then in here he comes to-night, and the 
first thing he shot at me was baseball. ‘We lost 
the game to-day one to nothing.’ Little won- 
der if I did flare up a bit; is it? 

“If Runt has slipped his moorings, how- 
ever, that means for awhile at least he has got 
to go abreast the tide ; so he ’ll have no time 
for any baseball nonsense, and I ’ll be satisfied. 
What port will he make?” 

A moment Runt’s mother hesitated; then, 
laying a small white palm upon the ponderous 
bronzed right hand of the skipper, she said, 
earnestly, “You won’t interfere with him in 
any way, will you. Captain?” 

“Never ! He ’s your son, Lucy ; but outside 
this baseball business and that perfect mania 
44 


“THE BOY’S VOICE! 


he has for writing all the time, you are not 
more proud of the boy than I am. He got into 
my heart the day of my return from the first 
trip after the rescue. He hove to alongside of 
me as I stood here in this same kitchen; then 
he put his tiny arms around my legs and looked 
up at me just as trustingly as could be. He 
did look so comical, me towering there six feet 
two in my socks, and he away down there, a 
little bit of a chap 1 That ’s when I dubbed 
him ‘Runt.’ Ha-ha-ha! You were a mighty 
sick woman then, Lucy; but I guess you re- 
member the day well enough, for, thinking you 
were dying, you gave me your boy. Where is 
he bound, Boston?” 

“Yes, Captain. He loves printer’s ink, you 
know; so will try to get employment on one of 
the newspapers, I believe; but let me tell you, 
he assured us all that the finding of Roseland 
for you was one of his aims in life — ” 

“Hump!” interrupted the skipper again, 
springing from his chair, on this occasion, how- 
ever, placing it quietly in its corner. “I ’m go- 
ing out. Do n’t leave any light burning, for 
I do n’t know when I ’ll run in. Good-night, 
dad. Good-night, little mother. Good-night, 
Lucy. Here, I ’ll leave you the papers I went 
after. Dix is a great fellow for going accord- 
45 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


ing to law; but just you burn them up if you 
like. Good-night, all!” 

Verily, skipper Estey did have a soft place 
in his heart, and, as Tom Dolbeare had said 
to his shipmate, “it is the boy.” 

“Hi there, Matty! Are you alive?” 

As he pounded upon the rear door of a 
small hamlet, the skipper’s powerful voice rang 
out upon the night. 

“That you, Ed Estey?” 

“No mistake!” 

The door opened, and as the skipper en- 
tered he exclaimed, cordially, “Had you turned 
in, old man?” 

“No, only sitting here in the dark a spell, 
smokin’, you know. Glad you dropped in, Ed. 
What’s doing?” 

“How fast is that launch of yours?” 

“Well, Ed, I can make her go some.” 

“Beat eight knots, can you?” 

“Sho, Ed, I ’d fall asleep at that pace.” 

“Good! How long before you could get 
under way?” 

“One minute, if need be, Ed.” 

“Then be up and at it, Matty. I want you 
to run over the course to Boston, in part or full. 
I trust you, Matty, for you ’re a stanch friend 
and as mum as an oyster. I was pretty severe 
46 


THE BOY’S VOICE! 


on the boy to-night; told him he was booked 
for Frisco to-morrow by way of the Horn, and 
upon my word, he has quietly hoisted the hook 
and got out of the harbor. He has gone in 
his Skylark, which he claims to be good for 
eight knots. There ’s a nasty, choppy sea to- 
night, and I have n’t any too much faith in these 
motor-boats; and all is, I just want to satisfy 
myself that the boy reaches Boston O. K. Un- 
derstand?” 

“Ed!” 

“Yes.” 

“I like you as a man first rate. We ’ve 
alius been friends; but, say I, if you ’re in for 
doing that boy any harm, go get some one else ; 
ol’ man Matheson ain’t on the job; see?” 

The old fisherman laid stress on his words 
by removing the sou’wester he had donned and 
tossing it fiercely upon the table beside the 
candle he had lighted upon the entrance of his 
visitor. 

“Be lively, Matty; be lively!” the skipper 
said, easily; “all is, old man, I just couldn’t 
harm that boy. Did I, may I never again speed 
the Fiji by Thathers Island; understand?” 

Shortly afterwards, as the big launch 
plowed the waters of the harbor, the old fisher- 
man remarked, quietly: 

47 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


“Odd that there ’s so little moving to-night; 
is n’t it, Ed?” 

“I had that very thought myself,” was the 
skipper’s response. “Perhaps this inky dark- 
ness has a lot to do with that, eh? I don’t 
like these boats, not a little bit, Matty; and 
as the boy built his own craft, I confess being 
doubly anxious about it ; she is only an eighteen- 
footer, and my idea is that if we pass him, you 
urge him aboard your bigger craft. He ’ll 
come with you all right, but in that case I ’d 
want to be out of sight. Where would you 
stow me?” 

“There ’s the cabin, Ed.” 

“No; put the boy in there. He ’ll be sleepy 
enough by this time, sure.” 

“How about the skiff?” asked the man at 
the wheel, nodding astern. “She ’s all right,, 
Ed. I washed her well after the catch to-day, 
and she ’s bone-dry, with the tarpaulin up bow, 
you know.” 

“That ’s all right. Hit her up a bit more, 
can’t you?” 

“Sho, Ed. It ’s reckless for speed you are, 
an’ no mistake. I ’ve six forty-five revolutions 
now; but you pay the bill, so I ’ll make it fifty 
more to oblige you.” 

Seated forward. Skipper Estey kept an ear- 

48 


‘THE BOY’S VOICE I” 


nest, anxious watch ahead to port and starboard 
as the big launch cut through the waters at a 
speed gratifying even to him. 

Time and again he had called back to the 
old man at the wheel. 

“Nothing doing, Matty; hit her up, old 
man. We ’d ought to be passing him some- 
where along here, sure — ” 

“Hist! Listen! D’ye hear anything?” 

Skipper Estey shielded his left ear against 
the wind and leaned far forward as he strained 
his eyes to see; he even hushed his breath to 
hear. 

“A — ho-o-o-o-o-o-oy !” 

“A — ho-o-o-o-o-o-oy !” 

“Great Caesar, Matty. It ’s from off Nor- 
man’s Woe rock, and — and it ’s the boy’s 
voice ! 


49 


CHAPTER V 


In Boston 

“Any oars in your tow?” 

“Alius, Ed.” 

“Then give me the wheel while you hail 
the boy. Get the bearings, and say that a 
friend will take him off. Lively, now.” 

As the old fisherman yielded his place to 
the skipper, he curved his hands about his lips 
and, leaning far forward, shouted across the 
waters : 

“Ahoy! Ahoy!” 

Nearer and clearer came the response, 
“Ahoy!” 

“Where away?” 

“On the — reef of — Norman’s Woe.” 

Skipper Estey gritted his teeth, yet there 
was no trace of his emotion as he said, calmly: 
“Lay back here, Matty, and hit her up a bit 
more; act promptly now, and I ’ll double the 
figures already named. First, ask if he has 
matches.” 

“Ahoy, there! Got a match?” 

50 


IN BOSTON 


“Ye-es, but I am nigh half up to my neck 
in water; so they’re no good I” 

“Great Caesar, Matty, hit ’er up a bit more, 
man; hit ’er up I” 

Grimly the old man did as bidden. 

Nearer, nearer came the big launch. 

The waves crashed loudly upon the reef, 
yet were the voices easily heard. 

“Where away?” 

“That you, Matty? Gracious, but I am 
glad! I ’m in a mighty bad pickle!” 

“Keep him talking,” said the skipper, 
quietly, as he rapidly drew the skiff abreast the 
stern of the launch and leaped into it. “His 
voice will guide me. Yet, do n’t let on who I 
am; understand? Aha, these blades are O. K. 
That’s good! Now just you keep your boat 
out of harm’s way and keep him talking.” 

“What hap-pened. Runt?” called the old 
fisherman as Skipper Estey rowed away toward 
the reef. 

“Some one stole my gasoline. Engine 
stopped, and my boat was driven on the rocks. 
A big hole was pounded in the port bow, and 
she filled fast. Who ’s with you ?” 

“A friend of mine jus’ up from Philadelphy. 
Can you talk Portuguese?” 

“No, I can’t.” 


51 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


“Then keep on talking to me, as your voice 
will be his guide. He ’ll get you all right!” 

“Can he talk French?” 

“Not a word of it. Talk to 

“My gracious, Matty — the — the Skylark — 
has — 

“I ’m — all right now, — for a minute or 
two! I ’m hanging on — to — Oooooough!” 

A vicious comber broke over the rock to 
which the boy was clinging, and, although a 
strong swimmer, handicapped as he was by his 
clothing and the bundle he had tied about his 
left forearm, he would undoubtedly have been 
hurled high up upon the rock had not a 
strong hand gripped his collar, and then, with a 
wide sweep, he was landed in the bow of the 
skiff. 

Skipper Estey instantly seized the oars 
again, and before the succeeding wave had 
crashed upon the famous reef his powerful 
strokes had swept them to comparative safety. 
He then picked his way carefully to the launch. 

“Gracious, but that was a close call!” Runt 
exclaimed, as he went overside. “Say, Matty, 
I Ve always thought my father a mighty strong 
man, but that Portuguese is a terror! Say, 
where ’s he going?” 

“To Magnolia, mebbe. Mebbe to Glou’s- 

52 



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IN BOSTON 


ter. I can’t just say; but let him alone, Runt, 
and tell old Matty what happened. Get into 
the cabin, though, and out of that wet toggery. 
I ’m bound for Bos’on, but will ease up on the 
engine a spell, so as to hear you talk; see?” 

“Gracious, Matty, things are n’t as bad as 
they looked, after all!” Runt exclaimed, ear- 
nestly, as he began doffing his well-soaked 
clothing. “I ’m bound for Boston myself, at 
least I was an hour ago. I tell you, if ever 
again I get back to school and am up against a 
thesis, I ’1 make my theme ‘Meanness,’ and 
say that the meanest chap afloat is the one mean 
enough to tap the tank of a motorboat. I 
did n’t discover the theft until I suddenly 
stopped outside the harbor. I did my utmost to 
attract attention and to make a landing, but 
the sea was running strong. I ’d made up my 
mind to strip off and try a seaward swim to 
Kettle Island when I espied your light, and all 
I say is. Thank goodness you came right then, 
and thank goodness, too, that big Portuguese 
got the grip on me just in the nick of time. 
Say, Matty, any dry clothing in the locker?” 

“No, Runt. You ’ve just got to tumble into 
a bunk and shut your eyes, and know no more 
till I call ye; see?’ 

“All right, Matty; thank you! I’m dry 
53 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


enough now, sure. I Ve spread around all 
my dunnage ; so out goes the light; good-night !” 

Skipper Estey had kept abreast the wake of 
the launch, a few strokes now, and he was 
alongside. Leaning over, he gripped a hand 
of the wheelman as he whispered, softly: 

“He ’ll be all right now, Matty, no mistake. 
Let him wake up natural, and it will be double 
pay for you when we meet again. I ’ll make 
back for town now; good-night.” 

By the gleam of his lantern the old fisher- 
man saw the glad light in the skipper’s eyes, 
and as the skiff dropped astern he mused hap- 
pily: “I ’m not the only friend Runt Estey has 
got, that ’s sarten sure. I ’ll run ’er easy-like 
to Bos’on and lay off City P’int till sun-up, any- 
way. Double figures, eh ! Fifty dollars ! Not 
much you do n’t, Ed Estey. I ’m only too glad 
I had a hand in the saving of his life.” 

Suddenly adding an additional fifty revolu- 
tions, grim and silent the old man sat at the 
wheel, yet his eyes bespoke his innate joy as he 
listened to the music of his motor and the rip- 
pling, hissing sound of the cut-water, as off 
either side it kept cleaving the briny deep into 
two bubbling bolsters of foam. 

“Gracious goodness, Matty, what time is it, 
anyway?” 


54 


IN BOSTON 


“I just heard eight bells tinkling for’ard 
somewhere,” came the slow response. “I ’ve 
slept like a log myself, Runt. We Te moored 
off the beach at South Bos’on; see?” 

“Then I ’ll take a car in from here, Matty. 
I ’m in an awful hurry! Yes, my clothes are 
dry all right, and it ’s evident to me I was n’t 
born to be drowned, eh? Ha-ha. But just the 
same I was done for this time sure but for your 
burly Portuguese friend. I hope to meet him 
some day, sure thing.” 

While at breakfast alone in the city, a sud- 
den sense of his utter loneliness suddenly seized 
upon the boy. 

“Gee whiz! but I wish I were back home 
again!” he moaned. Then quickly overcoming 
his weakness, he exclaimed: “Pshaw! I ’m not 
the first chap who ’s come here to earn his way. 
Others win out; I shall. So, then, no fears 
from the boy who pledged himself only last 
night to make things happen; and here ’s where 
I begin ! Pluck is what a fellow wants in this 
world. Our captain said yesterday that I had 
it. Well, right here is where I can show how 
much of it I ’ve got.” 

Aboard the Fijiy Runt had taken many trips 
to Boston, and so was to some extent familiar 
with the streets of the city, and he at once 
55 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


sought Newspaper Row, on lower Washington 
Street, and at length stood before the desk of 
the managing editor of one of the leading 
dailies. His stay, however, was a brief one, 
for that paper had no vacancies on its reporto- 
rial staff, and besides he was ‘‘too young.” 

To be a reporter had been Runt’s dream; 
so, unmindful of this and subsequent rebuffs, he 
persisted in his search, and at last found one 
honored chief who would vouchsafe a few 
words with him. 

“Ever been on any paper?” 

“For over a year now I have given the 
neighborhood news and our high-school notes 
to our Gloucester paper,” was the rather proud 
reply, the question having filled Runt with hope. 

“Get anything for it?” 

“Not any too much, I guess,” Runt laughed, 
easily. “I had a free subscription, with some 
perquisites, you know, and one dollar a column ; 
that ’s all.” 

“I see; you didn’t work for nothing, and 
I ’m glad of it. Too many of you chaps give 
your brain stuff away. If you see anything of 
interest, write it up, and bring it to me. If its 
worth while we ’ll take it. That ’s the best I 
can do for you. But you want to remember 
that writing up village events and covering a 

56 


IN BOSTON 


city are quite different matters; so I can’t offer 
any encouragement. Good-day, sir.” 

This crushing of newly aroused hopes sick- 
ened the boy, and it was very humbly that he 
wended his way to the street. 

The fresh air speedily revived him, how- 
ever, and he roused himself for another effort, 
saying cheerfully: “Here’s where Napoleon’s 
spirit would come in handy. I won’t recognize 
defeat; I ’ll at it again; I’ll make things hap- 
pen I That ’s my motto. What hustlers these 
newspaper men are, anyway ! Hello, what ’s 
up?” 

“Hi, there ! Stop him ! Stop him ! Thief I” 

An elderly man was in hot pursuit of one 
who had darted pa^t Runt and turned down a 
side street. The runner was tucking a light- 
colored overcoat under the jacket he was wear- 
ing, and as Runt saw several men rushing from 
a clothing store opposite him, the situation be- 
came clear to him. 

“I ’m dull,” he said, disgustedly. “It ’s an 
old trick on the gridiron; I could have tripped 
him easily. Now see what my legs can do I” 

Quickly passing all others, he was soon on 
the very heels of the thief, when, with a sud- 
den turn, the latter came about, and as his 
clenched fist shot out he called, huskily: 

57 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


“Stop, or I’ll do you! Git, now!” 

“Not on your life,” panted Runt. “Give 
me the coat!” 

He had dodged the intended blow by a 
quick leap to one side ; he then sprang forward 
and grappled with the thief. 

“You little puppet!” hissed the man, as he 
endeavored to hurl Runt away from him; and 
then, finding that the boy maintained his hold, 
his clenched fist administered a sound drubbing 
before a patrolman came to Runt’s assistance. 

“My name is Bourne,” said the elderly man 
to Runt, as the miscreant was whirled away in 
a patrol wagon. “I ’m manager of Freeman’s 
clothing store. Come up there with me, will 
you? I ’m sure Freeman would like to meet 
such a gritty little chap. By George, you clung 
right to him, and no mistake!” 

As Runt entered the store he saw a sign 
which read, “Large Boy Wanted,” and after 
the manager had explained to the merchant 
how a thief had made away with a coat 
snatched from a form in the vestibule, and told 
how “this boy” had joined in the pursuit, not 
only being the one to overtake the thief, but 
daring to close with him and hold on to him 
till the police came, Runt said, simply: 

58 


IN BOSTON 


do n’t want undue credit, Mr. Freeman; 
I only did what any other boy would have done ; 
that ’s all. I see you have a sign out, ‘Large 
Boy Wanted;’ will you give me a chance? I ’m 
looking for a job, sir.” 

A smile played about the merchant’s mouth 
as he asked, “Do you call yourself a ‘large 
boy?’ ” 

With an answering smile Runt replied: 
“Hardly, sir; but I am nearly seventeen and 
quick to think and to act; so perhaps the large 
boy would n’t be in the same class with me. 
Will you try me, please?” 

“What is your name, and where did you 
say you were from — Maine?” 

“Edgar Estey, junior, is my name; I am 
a Cape Ann boy.” 

“Have n’t run away from home, have 
you?” 

“No, sir; I have not!” Runt answered, 
stoutly; and then, recalling his mother’s letter, 
he presented it, saying, “I got water-soaked last 
night, but I hope it is so you can read it, sir.” 

“Come in the office and sit down,” said Mr. 
Freeman, as he seated himself to read the 
missive : 


59 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


“To Whom it May Concern: 

“This is to certify that my son, the 
bearer, leaves home to earn his own living, 
going with my full consent and blessing. I 
am sure he is honest, and will serve an em- 
ployer faithfully In all things. 

“Mrs. L. S. Wyndale.” 

“That is exactly what we are looking for,” 
declared the clothier, handing back the letter; 
“boys that will be faithful In all things. Most 
all boys are great chaps to shirk after the first 
day or two. I will give you a trial to test this 
statement. Do n’t know much about the city, 
do you?” 

With beaming face Runt said, “I do thank 
you for giving me a chance, sir; I know little 
or nothing about this great city.” 

Mr. Freeman stepped to the door and called 
out, “Charlie I” and as a bright-looking fellow 
responded, the clothier asked: 

“Do you know why that sign is out?” 
“That new stock clerk was discharged this 
morning.” 

“All right. Take in the sign; I Ve put this 
young man on. Break him In, will you? His 
name Is Estey; Estey, this is Charlie Hill, a 
6o 


IN BOSTON 


fine fellow he is, too; and I say, Charlie, help 
him out in the room-and-board business, will 
you? Tell Bourne I give you two an extra 
hour at noon for that purpose, and to pay this 
boy what the other was getting. 

“Now, Estey,” he added, turning to Runt, 
“it only remains for you to make good those 
assertions in your recommendation. It is a 
two-weeks’ trial, understand. Hill will show 
you how to go about your work.” 

“What pay will I get?” asked Runt, anx- 
iously, as with Hill he stepped out on the sales 
floor. 

“Six dollars, I think,” was the reply; “all 
our stock clerks get six, to start with. But, 
pshaw ! that does n’t represent what he can 
earn if he only has the right spirit; for instance, 
take any Saturday, the store is crowded from 
two o’clock until eleven, and during the rush 
any stock clerk with an eye to business can 
jump in and make at least a dozen sales, and 
there is always a good commission, you know,” 
the boy added, brightly. 

He was a fine-appearing, wide-awake lad, 
of marked refinement, and evidently of good 
education. 

“I am now a salesman in the suit depart- 
61 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


ment,” he continued, with pride. “I have been 
here three years, and you have equally as good 
a chance for promotion; all is, it’s like every- 
thing else: a fellow wants a goal, and then 
he has but to take the get-there stroke and stick 
to it. See?” 


62 


CHAPTER VI 


Runt Wins Promotion 

“He is all right, is n’t he?” young Hill said, 
pleasantly, as the boys left the office. “Be 
honest, and he ’ll treat you white as snow. 
Your work here won’t be hard, Estey, once 
you get used to it; it ’s monotonous, that ’s all; 
the same old grind over and over again, begin- 
ning at eight o’clock Monday morning, with 
no let-up until eleven o’clock Saturday night. 
Brushing, tagging, marking, and piling all these 
stacks of clothing, and you ’ll be tired when 
night comes. I say, Estey, you seem the kind 
of chap I could get along with all right; what 
do you say to going halves on my room? I ’m 
agreeable. We could lunch together, too, if 
you like.” 

Runt was drawn to the open-hearted young 
fellow and readily accepted the proposal. 
Then Hill gave him an idea of what he was 
to do, and the way to do it, and so began what 
it amused the new stock clerk to call his “effort 
to make things happen!” 

63 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


“It is n’t reportorial work, and there ’s no 
odor of printer’s ink in here,” he said, smil- 
ingly, “yet, maybe I can do better at this finan- 
cially. It was a mighty bad beginning for me 
losing my motor and the boat; yet, maybe that 
bad beginning will mean a good ending.” 

Charlie Hill proved a stanch friend; as 
he had said, the work was the same thing over 
and over again, yet Runt pursued it faithfully, 
and quickly became so adept at piling goods 
that several of the salesmen were enthusiastic. 

“Estey is all right,” one declared to Man- 
ager Bourne. “Just look at those stacks of 
pants, each one of them as straight as a ruler. 
He ’ll get along here all right.” 

Yet there was one salesman less friendly. 
Early on the afternoon of that first day at the 
store this man had come suddenly upon Runt, 
and had called, brusquely: “Here, Shorty! 
Come, tag these goods!” 

“My name is Estey,” said Runt, although 
his heart rebelled at the word “Shorty.” 

“It does n’t make any difference what your 
name is, I want these goods tagged. Come 
here. Shorty; do you hear?” 

A wild, rebellious spirit seized upon the new 
clerk because of the man’s domineering manner, 
and for a moment he stood motionless as he 
64 


RUNT WINS PROMOTION 


tried to think what he should do or say. Then, 
by a masterful effort, he curbed his temper and 
in silence followed the brusque salesman, who, 
as he halted before a huge pile of sacks, said, 
commandingly, “Take off the white tags and 
put on these green ones.” 

“Yes,” Runt responded, quietly; and then 
he asked, “What are the different colors for?” 

“For instance. Shorty,” replied the sales- 
man, airily, and shoving the boy to one side 
forcibly, he attempted to pass. 

Involuntarily Runt’s hands closed as, in a 
threatening attitude, he sprang before the of- 
fender. Again the salesman pushed him roughly 
aside, when, with considerable force, out shot 
Runt’s right arm; but the blow fell short, as 
at the first menacing gesture the salesman had 
stepped nimbly backward, while a wild look of 
actual fear and surprise blanched his face. His 
eyes fixed with steadfast gaze upon the stern 
features of the indignant boy, he seemed be- 
wildered and confused, while those gathered 
about realized fully that his usual self-assurance 
had entirely deserted him. 

“Do n’t you ever dare push me like that 
again, or call me ‘Shorty,’ ” stormed the angry 
boy, as fire flashed from his eyes. 

“Better look out, Marvin, or you ’ll get 
' 65 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


your head pounded off,” Mr. Bourne called, 
quietly, and his mocking tones produced a peal 
of laughter from the group of salesmen who 
had quickly gathered. 

The spell was broken; Runt stepped back, 
folded his arms, and said in clear tones: “I 
do n’t know who you are ; I do n’t even know 
your name; but I say this to you: I came here 
to work, not to be knocked about or to be called 
names. If you do n’t like me, keep away from 
me, or something will happen!” 

“You’ll get discharged; that’s what will 
happen!” was the retort, as the salesman turned 
away. 

A deathly sick feeling crept into Runt’s 
heart. That word “discharged” suddenly had 
to him all the horrors of a death sentence. His 
trembling fingers refused to open the strings 
on the tags, and so, to settle the matter, he 
finally went to the manager. 

“Mr. Bourne,” he said, “I do n’t want to 
lose my place. Was I wrong? Shall I apolo- 
gize to him?” 

“O, pshaw, no !” was the quiet reply, as the 
speaker smiled broadly. “You ’re all right, 
Estey, and in this matter you did just right, 
too. Marvin is a great chap to bluster, but we 
all know him! The other new boys have 
66 


RUNT WINS PROMOTION 

always knuckled right down to him, and that 
has spoiled him. You Ve shown an all-wool, 
yard-wide, plucky spirit, however, and I guess 
he ’ll let you alone hereafter. Ho-ho-ho ! 
That was rich, that was, to see Walt Marvin 
jump back, scared half to death of you. Ho- 
ho-ho ! That ’s his counter over there, you 
know. White tags are on seasonable goods; 
a five-per-cent commission goes with a green 
tag, while a red one nets a man ten per cent; 
see?” 

At the same moment the discomfited sales- 
man was in close communication with one of 
the stock clerks. 

“Joe, who is this new fellow?” he said, 
earnestly. 

“I do n’t know, Marvin. You were at 
lunch; but of course you’ve heard how he 
chased the thief, and then it was Freeman him- 
self hired him. That ’s all any of us know, 
I guess.” 

“Well, you can bank on it his stay here 
will be a short one I” Marvin emphatically de- 
clared. “June seventeenth is fast coming; and 
that ends the busy season in the clothing, and 
so out go all new hands. I ’ll pull you through 
all right, Joe; but I want you to do me a favor. 
Find out who this Estey is, where he lives, or 
67 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


where he came from. Everything you possibly 
can about him; the more the better. Do that, 
and I ’ll give you five dollars. I ’m dead cu- 
rious to find out at once. What say?” 

“I ’ll do it to-night,” was the positive reply. 

Joe Powers was kept on that night, how- 
ever, as he had to take the place of the boy 
discharged that morning. After eight-thirty 
the stock clerk “on duty” had to fasten all win- 
dows and extinguish all lights over the build- 
ing, and then assist the salesman to cover the 
stock; and as Mr. Bourne thought Runt would 
not be familiar enough with the building to 
know the work, young Powers had no oppor- 
tunity to act the role of a sleuth. 

Thursday morning the manager told Runt 
he would have to work that night, saying each 
stock clerk would have two nights a week as- 
signed to him until after the holiday; so dur- 
ing his noon-hour, in order to familiarize him- 
self with the various rooms above the sales 
floor, Runt went carefully over the entire build- 
ing. 

Mr. Freeman was an extensive manufac- 
turer, the bulk of this branch of his business 
being done in a three-story building in the rear 
of the Washington Street building, the two be^ 
ing connected by an archway at the second floor. 

68 


RUNT WINS PROMOTION 


‘‘This is a big concern, all right,” the boy 
mused as he strolled through the archway; “a 
big concern. I ’m glad I got into it, and already 
I like it better even than nosing around here, 
there, and everywhere for news at one dollar 
per column. Ha-ha-ha I How mad father 
would get if he saw my name in the paper, ‘By 
Edward Estey, Jr.’ Ha-ha-ha! Yet, just the 
same that dollar a column counted, and it paid 
for my motor — fifty dollars — now off the reef 
of Norman’s Woe, along with the nine dollars 
I put into my Skylark, Who says that 
was n’t” — 

“Fire! Fire!” 

“Fire! Fire! Fire!” 

It was a girl’s shriek! 

At the same instant several men and the 
terrified girl came rushing down the stairs, 
passing Runt, who was already leaping up the 
stairway. 

This was the cutting-room, some eighty feet 
in length and thirty in width. 

The floor was literally covered with both 
rags and clippings of a thin, slate-colored pat- 
tern paper. 

This cutting-room during the noon-hour 
was the customary retreat for all the employees 
69 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


who brought their lunch from home. Among 
these was Miss Hyde, the cashier. 

On this occasion she had, as was her wont, 
been seated reading a morning paper near the 
little gas stove which was used for the heating 
of tea or coffee, or the warming up of a lunch. 

Seated upon a near-by cutting table were 
several of the cutters, and before this table 
stood Joe Powers, the stock clerk, whom Wal- 
ter Marvin had delegated to obtain facts re- 
specting Runt. 

Joe was telling a funny story, yet in the 
midst of it bethought to relight his cigarette; 
so, stooping to the floor, he selected a strip 
of paper, and then, stepping over to the gas 
stove, he readily secured a light. This done, 
thinking of the story he was telling, he care- 
lessly tossed the yet blazing paper, as he 
thought, back upon the stove. 

Not so. It fell upon the newspaper in the 
hands of the cashier. 

With a scream of wild terror she threw the 
blazing paper from her and rushed away, and 
in the very instant it fell upon the floor, a sheet 
of flame shot upward. 

“Fire I Fire I” 

“Fire! Fire! Fire!’’ 

Some one rushed for the stairway. The 
70 


RUNT WINS PROMOTION 


stampede was on I In that group of men there 
was not one courageous spirit! 

In the moment he reached the scene, Runt 
Estey grasped the situation and proved himself 
equal to it. 

At hand were many short, narrow boards, 
upon which the woolens had been rolled, and 
Runt caught up one of these in passing; he saw 
that the fire was running toward the further 
end of the long room, and, rushing ahead of 
the blaze, he used his board swiftly and deftly 
in an effort to sweep back everything upon the 
floor into the open space in front of the little 
gas stove. 

“If it ’s in one pile,” he thought, “I can 
easily stamp out the fire. Gee, whiz 1 but this 
— is — making — things — happen 1” 

Swiftly, deftly, still he worked. 

Now in one place, then in another, with all 
his excitement, never forgetting the object of 
his work; a pile of the burning material all in 
one place. 

At last he knew he had accomplished this 
task, although now the smoke had become both 
blinding and stifling. 

“I ’m with you. Runt. I ’m with you 1” 

The voice of his chum came to Runt at a 
moment when he felt he must flee for his own 

71 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


safety. With a new-born strength he shouted: 
“I Ve got it all up near the gas stove. Sail in 
lively I I Ve stamped out the blaze, anyway.*’ 

He was almost suffocated when Charlie 
rushed along with a pail of water, but after that 
all danger was over, and soon there was little 
else save a disagreeable odor to tell what might 
have been. 

The clothier himself was quickly upon the 
scene, and as the last vestige of burned paper 
was tossed into the yard below, he gripped 
Runt’s hand, exclaiming cordially: 

“I shall not be slow in remembering your 
promptness and faithfulness, Estey. Fire in 
our manufacturing department at this time 
would mean a great loss, as we are working on 
our winter stock now, you know. Did you es- 
cape unharmed, Estey?” 

No. Above his shoetops and almost to 
the knee the brave boy had been somewhat 
burned. Mr. Freeman insisted upon speeding 
him by auto to the hospital for treatment, and 
also insisted on going with him. 

“It was pure carelessness on Joe’s part,” he 
said, wrathfully, as the car whizzed through 
the streets. 

“Powers is a good worker, a good, genial 
fellow, and I have him in mind for promotion, 
72 


RUNT WINS PROMOTION 


but this affair dampens my ardor. I really 
ought to discharge the fellow, not alone for 
his careless act, but as well for running from 
the fire. He, of all others, should have tried 
to save my property. Heigh, ho I it ’s a bad 
tangle. What would you do in such a case, eh, 
Estey?’* he queried, assuming an air farthest 
from his real feelings, “Apply human or divine 
law?” 

Runt answered slowly; for now, that it was 
all over, he was in a somewhat shaky condition. 
“Mr. Freeman, I can only think now of a line 
in the second part of Pope’s Essay on Criticism, 
‘To err is human; to forgive’ — well, you know 
the last word, of course.” 

“Hello I so you are versed in the poets, are 
you?” 

“There ’s room for improvement, I assure 
you, sir,” Runt said, earnestly; “but there are 
many times when that one line comes forcibly 
to mind, just as now in this case.” 

“Yes, but it is not every one who can say 
just where the quotation is to be found; that 
takes especial observation and good memory. 
By the way, Estey, how did you happen to be 
in our vicinity that morning?” 

“You mean the day I was looking for 
work!” 


73 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


“Yes, you being a Cape Ann boy, you know; 
how did it happen you were in Boston that 
day?” 

Runt told of his love for newspaper work, 
of his many rebuffs, and of his rousing himself 
to take part in the chase at the moment when 
discouragement had almost mastered him. 

“I am glad of this talk with you, Estey,” 
said the clothier. “I really want some one in 
the office who knows a little something about 
writing. It would take a load from my shoul- 
ders. If you can prove yourself capable of 
helping me get up my newspaper advertise- 
ments, I will gladly give you a chance. Aha, 
here we are I” 

When the burns had been dressed. Runt 
wanted to return to the store. To this, how- 
ever, his employer opposed, saying he should 
at least rest that afternoon; so he was taken 
to his lodgings. A little later Charlie rushed 
in upon him, bearing for him a new suit, the 
gift of Mr. Freeman, who had also given his 
young salesman an afternoon off, and it speeded 
quickly away once Runt learned that his new- 
found chum was a devotee of both chess and 
checkers. 

Early next morning Mr. Freeman sum- 
moned Runt to the office, saying jestingly, 
74 


RUNT WINS PROMOTION 


“Now, Estey, lad, show me what your brain 
can do.” 

When Runt’s effort was read to him later, 
he exclaimed, enthusiastically, “Estey, I like 
that; I really do; hereafter the big stool in the 
main office is your place.” 

“I came to Boston to earn my own way, 
sir,” Runt said, gladly, “but I do n’t want to 
go up too fast, you know, for I always think 
of the rocket and the stick.” 

“Never mind the stick, Estey,” was the em- 
phatic reply. “Brains and industry are what 
count to-day; and the lad who possesses them 
is bound to go up fast — yes, and stay there, too, 
providing, of course, he always puts forth the 
best in his power. I believe in advertising; so 
you will have plenty to do, never fear; and 
from the monetary viewpoint, I think you may 
consider it a long forward step!” 


75 


CHAPTER VII 


“Up to Runt Estey!” 

“My father’s God, to Thee, 

Author of Liberty, 

To Thee I sing. 

Long may our land be bright 
With Freedom’s holy light; 

Protect us by Thy might, 

Great God, our King!” 

Far across the waters of Boston harbor the 
stirring words rang out with a fervor most in- 
spiring. 

The whistles of two big motor-launches 
screamed forth their approval, and the boys 
in this one great party sent forth a mighty 
cheer : 

“Hurrah, one! Hurrah, two! Hurrah, 
three — Tiger!” 

“It’s a race between the boats!” shouted 
Runt, excitedly. “Look, chum; look! Sure 
thing it ’s a race! Ah, is n’t this glorious; just 
glorious!” 


76 


“UP TO RUNT ESTEYI” 


“Glorious!” echoed Charlie, enthusiastic- 
ally. “That ’s just what it ought to be, too. 
Runt, for this is the ever-glorious, you know, 
and there never was a more perfect July 
Fourth, never!” 

The Fourth was always a gala day to Mr. 
Freeman’s employees, for, with their families, 
they enjoyed at his expense a monster basket 
picnic on one of the islands far down the bay. 
The day was spent with but one object in view 
— to get all the enjoyment that could possibly 
be crowded into the few short hours, and al- 
ways ended with fireworks set off just before 
the return trip. 

In former years the merchant had chartered 
an excursion steamer, but on this occasion he 
had, in order, as he said, to more surely satisfy 
young America and be strictly up to date, hired 
two large motor-boats. His generosity was 
fully appreciated by all on board the boats. 

It developed that there was a real rivalry 
between the owners of these boats, and hardly 
had they threaded their way among the pleasure 
craft off City Point, when, with the long fair- 
way clear to them, the race for supremacy was 
on in earnest. 

Peddock’s Island was their destination. 

Replete with historic events are many of the 

77 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


beautiful islands in this harbor, and so it was 
that in passing Castle Island, the site of Fort In- 
dependence, wherein the President of the Con- 
federacy was a captive in Civil War times, there 
had been a spontaneous outburst of song, and 
the Fourth of July spirit was rampant. 

Almost abreast, the racers speeded by 
Thompson, Spectacle, Moon, Long, and Rains- 
ford Islands, with Peddock’s just ahead. 

It looked like a dead heat, when suddenly, 
even above the clamor of the happy excursion- 
ists and the din of the motor. Runt’s voice rang 
out: 

“Hard a-port — ev’ry spoke I” 

His very earnestness commanded prompt- 
ness, and immediately three bells sounded aft; 
and the next instant the trusty motor was send- 
ing the boat full speed astern. 

The vast sea about them was almost as 
smooth as a millpond, yet in the slight swell 
dead ahead Runt, from his stand up bow, had 
espied a submerged log. 

It was found to be some twenty feet in 
length, so that all could well realize how nar- 
row was the escape from mishap; and since it 
was a menace to navigation, it was taken in 
tow, the boat proceeding slowly to Peddock’s, 
where all save Marvin accorded Runt the credit 

78 


UP TO RUNT ESTEYI’^ 


his alertness deserved. Soon in the joy of the 
moment the incident was forgotten. 

Being a keen lover of sports, Mr. Freeman 
arranged and carried out in an efficient man- 
ner a number of contests, which were open 
to all, the many competitors for the various 
prizes making a clever showing, to the great 
joy of not only their immediate friends, but 
also that of the onlookers. 

The potato race, sack race, and handicap 
short distance running races were the interest- 
ing and amusing features of the morning sports. 

Then came the great “family spread,” with 
plenty of ice-cream to add to the joy of the 
feasters. 

In the afternoon the baseball game between 
the “Benedicts” and “Bachelors” was won by 
the latter, six to one; Runt pitching a heady 
game for the winners. 

Like many another healthy Gloucester 
schoolboy. Runt Estey could n’t recall the time 
when he was unable to swim and row, so that 
now he was also prominent in the aquatic 
events. In the first rowing race he was bested 
only by “Old Man Marvin,” with Charlie Hill 
a good third. The double oars proved a dead 
heat. Runt and Charlie crossing the finish line 
neck and neck with Marvin and Powers. 

79 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


The one hundred yards and return swim- 
ming contest proved the closing event. 

On the home-stretch the four contestants — 
Marvin, Powers, Charlie, and Runt — were 
making a battle royal for supremacy, when the 
latter, who had a slight lead over all, heard a 
startled cry for help. Looking over his left 
shoulder, he saw Joe Powers disappear, and 
he turned quickly to the rescue; the others, not 
having heard the cry, keeping on for the goal; 
Charlie winning the event only by a desperate 
spurt at the finish, to the chagrin of the stout- 
boned, muscular Marvin. 

Joe had been seized with cramp, and when 
Runt grasped him, upon his first coming to the 
surface, the terrified boy struggled desperately 
to close his arms about his would-be rescuer. 

Already somewhat exhausted by his long, 
hard battle for the emblem of victory in the 
swimming race. Runt speedily found himself 
having a few really desperate moments, for 
Powers fought him fiercely. Again and again, 
however. Runt held him off, while yet retaining 
the hold that kept Joe’s head above the surface. 

“This is making things happen with a 
vengeance,” Runt breathed, frantically. “But 
how long can it last? O, if he would only show 
8o 


“UP TO RUNT ESTEYI^’ 


some sense! If only I could strike him hard 
behind the ear — that would put him to — ’’ 

“Hang to him, Runt! Hang to him — I ’m 
coming!” 

Charlie’s shout and the rapid clicking of 
oars came to him as he saw several boats ap- 
proaching. 

“If only they’d hurry!” Runt thought. 
“Why don’t they hurry? I ’m near all in!” 
Just then Powers made a last despairing effort 
to close with him, and Runt, battling now on 
the defensive, was forgetful of all else until, 
with terrific force, something crashed against 
the right side of his head, and he suddenly felt 
himself become as if a mass of boneless flesh 
and utterly helpless; then Joe’s arms closed 
around him, and despite himself he was going 
down — down — down ! 

Owing to the excitement of the rowers. 
Runt had been struck by the prow of a boat; 
but at that moment Charlie Hill, who had 
leaped into another of the boats as it speeded 
away to the work of rescue, made a dive from 
the bow and quickly brought to the surface the 
two boys, unconscious and together, locked in 
each other’s arms. 

The work of resuscitation immediately com- 

« 8i 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


menced under the cool-headed direction of 
Walter Marvin. Meanwhile, at his suggestion, 
all possible speed was made by motor-boat 
across the bay to Hough’s Neck, where, after 
nearly an hour of continued strenuous en- 
deavor, both boys were revived; Runt, however, 
being still unconscious, owing to his injuries. 
A local physician ordered his immediate re- 
moval to the General Hospital in Boston, and 
again the big launch was put to its uttermost 
speed limit, for it was deemed a race with 
Death. 

An ambulance had been summoned by tele- 
phone and was in waiting at Long Wharf, and 
once again Runt Estey was whizzed across the 
city to the hospital, where his name was at once 
placed upon the dangerous list, but was re- 
moved during the night, when it was found 
there had been no fracture of the skull, as at 
first feared. 

“Make — things — happen I Make — things 
— happen I” 

“Delirious,” said the surgeon in attendance, 
as he smiled pleasantly to Mr. Freeman, who 
had remained at the boy’s bedside. “At such 
times people do get strange ideas; very, very 
strange. Really, though, this boy gives us 
82 


UP TO RUNT ESTEYI 


something uniquel Indeed, it is an idea that 
would shape a man’s whole life — do n’t you 
think so?” 

Again Runt mumbled: “Joshua — Gideon — 
Napoleon, each did — make things happen — 
and now — it’s up to — Runt Esteyl” 


83 


CHAPTER VIII 


Charlie’s Great Scheme 

“Say, Runt I” exclaimed Charlie Hill, ex- 
citedly, on the occasion of one of his daily visits 
to his room-mate at the hospital, “the side- 
room has been let. Guess who is to be our 
neighbor.” 

“Give it up, chum.” 

“Walter Marvin!” 

“Gosh! Is that so? Did he know we 
lived there?” asked Runt, evidently not at all 
pleased. 

“He says not, but we all know his word 
does n’t amount to much,” declared Charlie. 
“He’s a mighty smart salesman. Runt boy; 
not a one of our other men can earn anything 
near to what he does on commission sales; but 
beyond the store acquaintance I want no deal- 
ings with him!” 

“Same here,” answered Runt, with energy. 
“All is, chum, if we do n’t like our neighbors, 
we can go elsewhere, eh?” 

“That ’s right, too ; but, to my way of 
84 


CHARLIE’S GREAT SCHEME 


thinking, Marvin is bound to be friendly. He 
asked me a legion of questions about you, Runt, 
and seemed really interested. I just told him 
you were a Cape Ann boy, and let it go at that; 
see? I was going out just as he came with his 
trunk, and after he had expressed surprise at 
seeing me, nothing would do but I must step 
into his room and see the curios. He has been 
something of a traveler, I guess, for he has 
stuff from everywhere ; and he ’s a crank, sure 
pop; for under his pillow he put a loaded re- 
volver. I smiled when I saw him do it; for, 
between ourselves. Runt, I ’d put a new cent 
against a peanut he ’d faint dead away at sight 
of a burglar; for I do n’t forget how even you 
scared him one day; I ’d a notion to put up 
a job on him some night. What do you say?” 

“I know he does n’t like me,” said Runt, 
decisively; “and somehow I don’t fancy him; 
so I may say the thing is mutual. I ’m glad 
you didn’t post him any about my affairs; and 
for my part, he will be let alone. No,, he 
need n’t bother himself about Runt Estey, and 
I ’d tell him so any time.” 

“Old Man Marvin,” as his associates called 
him, had secured the room adjoining the boys’ 
room at Mrs. Schepp’s lodging-house. Both 
were rear rooms, two flights up, and were al- 

85 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


ways bright and pleasant, as from noon-day the 
warm sunlight streaming through the windows 
flooded each nook and corner of them. 

Level with the window’s sill was a fire- 
escape, with a ladder both to the floor above 
and the yard below. But otherwise the scene 
presented seemed to the young toilers an end- 
less chain of back yards, yet it was “home,” 
and here, on a beautiful, warm August evening, 
Charlie impatiently awaited the return of his 
room-mate, for he had determined to celebrate 
Runt’s coming from the hospital by taking a 
trolley ride to Revere Beach. 

“Had I thought of it earlier,” he mused, 
“I ’d had Joe go with us, for he ’s all right, 
that boy is, since he gave up that pesky cigarette 
habit. My I but it was lucky for those boys 
that day at the picnic that I got them just the 
minute I did! Gee, whiz! but I do wish Runt 
would come! I wonder what keeps him away 
on this his first night out of quod!” 

Runt had remained at the store with Mr. 
Freeman after the six o’clock closing hour to 
write a special “ad.,” and when it was finished, 
the clothier abruptly asked, “Have you got any- 
thing on hand for to-night, Estey?” 

“No, sir; is there anything I can do for 
you?” 


86 


CHARLIE’S GREAT SCHEME 


“Yes. Come out to my house with me. It 
will do you good after that long hospital siege 
of yours. I have a fine place, right in the 
country, you might say, yet scarcely ten miles 
away. Will you come ? That ’s right. Hand 
in your ad.’ and we ’ll start at once. It ’s a 
dash by auto, out through Brookline; so is 
really a pretty run all the way.” 

So it was that Charlie still waited as the 
darkness of night settled down over the great 
city; and soon, from thoughts of his absent 
friend, he turned to his neighbor, Marvin, until 
he became enthused with the idea of carrying 
out the scheme he had incidentally mentioned 
to Runt weeks before, of giving the blustering 
salesman a scare. 

“That fellow never gets home until late,” 
said Charlie, in self-communion, “and so, if it ’s 
open, I ’ll get in through his window and rig 
up a thing that will make him howl in all the 
seven languages he says he knows. If I know 
him, he ’ll wake up the house and will forget 
all about his loaded shooter. From this room, 
at the moment he lights up, I ’ll pull a string 
that ’ll yank a dummy out from behind the foot 
of his bed. Yes! I’ll do it! It’s fun for 
all of us, and it ’ll kill time; so here goes.” 

He passed out on the fire-escape, and, find- 

87 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


ing Marvin’s window open, he entered the 
room. But hardly had he opened the door of 
the closet from which he thought to secure the 
apparel needed in making up the dummy, than 
he heard a key turn in the lock leading to the 
hallway. 

Hoping to escape detection, he ran to the 
window. Marvin evidently was in a hurry, for 
he entered hastily and just in time to see the 
figure on the fire-escape. 

Swiftly he crossed the room, and on reach- 
ing the window and seeing that the intruder 
entered the boys’ room, which was lighted, he 
quickly turned back and, stealthily seizing each 
drawer in his dressing-case, he tossed their con- 
tents upon the floor. 

After viciously kicking them in all direc- 
tions he rushed back to the window and called 
in loud, excited tones: “Say, there, Charlie 
Hill! Are you coming back? I ’m waiting for 
you. You see, I saw you!” 

With wonderful swiftness he turned and, 
after lighting the gas, rushed to the open door, 
shouting: “Mrs. Schepp I Mrs. Schepp I Mrs. 
ScheppI” 

Followed by several of her lodgers, the 
landlady came hurriedly up the stairs, and as 
88 


CHARLIE’S GREAT SCHEME 


they entered his room, Marvin said, excitedly: 
“Look at this, will you? I ’ve been robbed!” 

Suddenly he turned deathly pale. A glance 
showed that his treasure-house — a large, strong 
trunk — was open. Like one drunken he stag- 
gered to it and rumaged its contents. 

“Gone I” he exclaimed, in unmistakable an- 
guish. “Gone — gone! Twelve hundred dol- 
lars ! Mrs. Schepp, no one but you must leave 
the house, and you must bring the police. Hill 
has robbed me!” 


89 


CHAPTER IX 


Its Development 

The next morning at Mr. Freeman’s, Runt 
was early out of doors. He at once sought 
the gardens which were connected with the 
house by a picturesque labyrinth, and his boyish 
enthusiasm knew no bounds. 

Mr. Freeman joined him shortly, and to- 
gether they roamed through adjacent fields and 
climbed to the summit of the hill beyond. A 
beautiful spot by nature, its beauties had been 
enhanced by the skill of man. 

“This beats even Magnolia!” Runt ex- 
claimed, enthusiastically, “and it shows what 
money can do! Who wouldn’t be rich!” 

“Would you?” came the query, with a 
smile. 

“I rather think I would, yes!” was the de- 
cisive reply. 

“Avoid waste,” said the merchant, quietly. 
“It ’s the one and only way to attain wealth, 
Estey. I owe all this estate to the simple habit 
of saving the pennies I had no actual need to 
90 


ITS DEVELOPMENT 


spend. Necessity compelled me to save. 
When fourteen, I began my career as a bundle 
boy; I was homeless and penniless. My pay 
was small, yet I soon learned that by avoiding 
waste my dollars grew in number. In time I 
became salesman, and later, when I saw a small 
but good business opening, I had the necessary 
funds to take advantage of it; and, Estey, from 
that small beginning the business has steadily 
grown to its present mammoth proportions. 

“Aha, it is nine o’clock ! Did you hear that 
tinkling? It’s our breakfast bell. Now for 
a smart run to the house I” 

After the meal they speeded to Boston. 
The while Runt being tutored as to the handling 
of an automobile, and added to the pride the 
boy felt in his employer’s kindly interest was 
the happy thought of how much he had to tell 
his mother in his next home letter. He chuckled 
as he thought, “She laughed when I told her 
of the awful grip that brawny Portuguese got 
on me off Norman’s Woe; but, gracious! 
what ’ll she say to this?” 

Hardly had they entered the store, how- 
ever, when Runt’s pleasure was quickly dis- 
pelled. 

Charlie Hill, rushing in after him, gripped 
his arm violently as, in excited tones, he ex- 
91 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


claimed : “Runt, old man, I ’m in trouble I I Ve 
been watching for you a long time I Slip down 
into the basement with me, will you? Maybe 
somehow or other you can help me!” 

Runt turned to follow his chum, but the 
latter was quickly intercepted by a stranger, 
who, as he displayed a badge he wore, said 
brusquely: “I have a warrant for your arrest. 
Will you come along quietly?” 

“What’s all this about, anyway?” de- 
manded Mr. Freeman, whose attention had 
been attracted by the stranger rushing upon 
Charlie. 

“He knows well enough,” asserted the offi- 
cer. “Larceny is the charge,” he added, in ex- 
planation to the clothier. 

“When! Where! I want to know the 
whole of this matter!” said Mr. Freeman in 
such a decisive tone that the officer replied, 
icily: “Well, sir, as the boy won’t talk, I will! 
’T was a little job on Harrison Avenue last 
night. He got away with twelve hundred dol- 
lars! Orders are orders, and must be obeyed; 
so there ’s only one thing to be done, go up to 
headquarters and see the chief — you may come 
with us if you like, to go bail for him, you 
know. That ’s fair; is n’t it? And look here; 
we ’ll want this man Marvin along with us.” 

92 


ITS DEVELOPMENT 


“What has he to do with it?” asked Mr. 
Freeman, in surprise. 

“He is the one that was robbed, and he 
swore out the warrant the first thing this morn- 
ing.” 

“Marvin, what does this mean?” demanded 
Mr. Freeman of the man himself, who had 
joined the little group gathered about Runt’s 
chum. 

“Why, I was robbed, that was all,” Mar- 
vin replied, somewhat angrily; “I was sure it 
was Charlie I saw in my room, and I told the 
police so.” 

“It I.” 

Pale and trembling was Runt’s chum as he 
uttered the startling words. A moment he fal- 
tered; then, addressing the salesman, he added: 
“Mr. Marvin, I was alone last night, waiting 
for Runt to come in, when we ’d go for a car 
ride. But he did n’t come, and somehow I got 
thinking of you, and got it into my head that 
a figure of a man yanked from behind your bed 
at just the moment you lighted the gas would 
scare you into a panic and make a heap of fun 
for the rest of us. 

“I slipped through your open window to 
rig up a dummy with clothes from your closet ; 
but I had just got to the door of it when I 
93 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


heard you coming, and knowing that you would 
be mighty angry, I ran back to my room. 
Then, when you shouted, I got rattled and ran 
from the house, and have stayed away ever 
since, waiting for Runt to help me straighten 
out matters, for I knew you had set the police 
to work, but I did n’t know you would say you 
were robbed, for you were not. I took noth- 
ing!” 

“Come; come!” said the officer, sternly. 
“This thing has gone far enough.” 

Placing his hand on Charlie’s shoulder, he 
turned to Mr. Freeman and asked: “Do n’t you 
think now that we had better all go up to head- 
quarters? Perhaps the chief will be able to 
straighten out matters.” 

“Yes, I guess that will be the better way,” 
was the answer. 

As the officer deftly placed a steel chain 
about the boy’s right wrist, Charlie cried im- 
ploringly, “Am I arrested?” 

“That ’s about the size of it,” was the cold 
reply. 

“Not yet, Mr. Officer,” asserted the mer- 
chant, raising the manacled hand. “You have 
suggested settling the matter at headquarters; 
so then release him, please; I will vouch that 
he goes along all right.” 

94 


ITS DEVELOPMENT 


As the chain left his wrist the boy cried out, 
tremulously: “O, Mr. Freeman, I thank you 
for that! Truly, I did no wrong beyond en- 
tering Marvin’s room, and I am more than 
sorry I did that!” 

At police headquarters he stoutly asserted 
his innocence of the charges set forth in the 
warrant, and just as vehemently Marvin as- 
serted that he had been robbed of twelve hun- 
dred dollars. 

Mr. Freeman admitted that it was easily 
possible for the salesman to be possessed of so 
large a sum, he being one of the few whose 
commissions on sales would often multiply 
many times his stated weekly salary. 

At the close of the investigation Charlie was 
sent over to the municipal court, and in the 
course of an hour knew that he must stand trial 
in the upper court. Bail was fixed at two thou- 
sand dollars. Mr. Freeman gave security for 
the amount, and the unhappy boy was released. 

On leaving the courthouse the merchant 
handed him a greenback, saying, jokingly: 
“You fellows would n’t be much use at the store 
to-day, so just slip over to South Boston and 
hire a motor-boat for a good, long cruise down 
the bay. You both love to be on the water, I 
have noticed, so I hope you ’ll make a good day 
95 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


of it. I know you are all right, Charlie, and 
the right, sooner or later, will triumph ; so never 
fear but all this court matter will end O. K.’’ 

Runt felt keenly Charlie’s sad plight, yet 
said nothing about it, preferring, in true boy 
fashion, to let his manner toward his chum ex- 
press his sympathies and mentally determining 
to do all in his power to make Charlie forget 
that anywhere under the broad, blue canopy 
above them there could be such a thing as 
trouble. 

On reaching the store Mr. Freeman at once 
summoned Marvin into the private office. 
“Look here,” he said, abruptly, “I repeat what 
I asked you at the courthouse ; can’t you let this 
thing drop?” 

“I also repeat what I said,” Marvin re- 
plied, firmly. “Some of the fellows here say 
I was n’t robbed at all. So let him own up, and 
pay back, and I ’ll pull out gladly; for I have 
always liked Hill first rate ; so really I hope he 
will pay back.” 

“He took nothing!” declared Mr. Freeman, 
with emphasis. 

“I know better!” Marvin replied, with 
spirit; “he says he took nothing and did noth- 
ing; but go into my room. Who was it, then, 
that ransacked my bureau drawers and turned 
96 


ITS DEVELOPxMENT 


everything in my room topsy-turvy? You 
heard the testimony; I suppose I did it myself; 
and I suppose I robbed myself, too. It ’s likely 
I did; isn’t it?” he asked, jeeringly. 

“I would n’t be surprised,” the clothier an- 
swered, coldly, as he scanned the man before 
him closely. “By the way, Marvin, things 
won’t be over-pleasant around here for awhile; 
so I think you had better take a vacation with- 
out pay. Meantime, if you can find employ- 
ment elsewhere, it might be well to take it. 
Good-day, sir.” 

“That ’s saying I ’m discharged!” muttered 
Marvin, as he left the office. “Well, this is n’t 
the only craft afloat!” 


7 


97 


CHAPTER X 


Making Things Happen 

At the store Charlie’s misfortune was de- 
plored by all, for his open-hearted, genial dis- 
position had made him a great favorite; and 
as the days passed, a shadow of sadness per- 
vaded all departments. 

One evening, as Runt was returning from 
work, his progress was stopped by a group 
gathered about a fakir at a street corner. In 
a momentary pause he caught the low-spoken 
words of one man to another: 

“I Ve got your man red-handed ! Had you 
any idea as to the go-between?” 

“None at all. Do I know him?” 

“Certainly I Marvin, the lanky salesman 
down here at Freeman’s; the same chap that 
gave us that larceny case.” 

“So? Good I Trusting to intuition, I said 
at first sight that the fellow was a crook. 
What’s his lay?” 

“He ’s a deep one, all right, Hanscom; 
mighty deep. His very boldness spells success, 
98 


MAKING THINGS HAPPEN 

almost; for he works right under the very 
shadow of the Court Square house, with officers 
passing him in bunches nearly every minute. 
He has all regular customers, no doubt, and 
the whole thing is done, I think, just at the close 
of business each day. He stands in the door- 
way this side of the old “Bell-in-hand” saloon; 
a dark, dingy hole it is, too. Along comes a 
buyer; in he slips, gets his ticket, and flits. It 
is all over in a jiffy! 

“I Ve trailed him two full days, Hanscom, 
so as to be sure of my man, although I started 
in with a pretty straight tip from one of the 
Pie Alley newsies, and I Ve been on the jump 
every blessed minute. He spends his money 
like a prince; literally throws it away on the 
ponies and such like. He ’s sporty; no mistake 
about it. He had me in a high-priced box down 
at the Fenway ball game this afternoon, for 
I wanted to hear what passed between him and 
an old salt he had dragged from his anchor on 
the water-front. It was most all sea-lore, al- 
though I learned enough to make it pay; that 
is why I called you up on the ’phone. They 
are to do business on a big scale at seven sharp, 
to-night, and the old salt passes right by here, 
and — hello, here he comes now I Leaning 
pretty far over, isn’t he? Ha-ha-ha! The 
99 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


lanky one never imbibes, never. Well, here ’s 
to business ; our surprise party for Agent Mar- 
vin. Eh — Ho-ho-hol” 

His curiosity intensely roused at the very 
beginning of the conversation. Runt lost even 
his passing interest in the humorous remarks 
of the seller of the great clean-all, giving his 
whole attention to the minions of the law. 

“This all comes of being a little chap,” he 
mused, happily. “I ’m simply out of sight. Of 
course, it ’s being nosey; but it ’s about Marvin, 
who is wronging my chum; I know he is; so I 
guess I ’m justified in standing by with both 
ears wide open.” 

With a decidedly heavy list to starboard, 
a venerable seafarer wended his way slowly 
across busy Washington Street and halted on 
the outer edge of the crowd on the corner. 

Waving high a package of his powder, the 
fakir shouted: 

“It ’ll make clothes white 1 It ’ll clean a 
dirty floor ! It ’ll clean evWy thing ” 

“So ’ll salt water I” bellowed the seafarer 
— and seemingly well satisfied at the laugh his 
words caused, he continued his way along 
School Street, in City Hall Avenue, and then 
into “Pie Alley,” the daily Mecca of many 
hundreds of hungry newsboys, 

100 


MAKING THINGS HAPPEN 


So great was his list that his right shoulder 
scraped the wall of the police station, in which 
he was destined to spend the night. 

In a doorway just beyond stood Walt Mar- 
vin, and, beckoning the ancient mariner to fol- 
low, the two disappeared up a most forbidding- 
looking stairway. 

Runt had followed the inspectors, being so 
near them when they halted Marvin as he left 
the doorway, that he heard the words: 

“The game is up, Mr. Marvin. Just take 
a little walk with us, will you? We got you 
red-handed, and perhaps you know there ’s a 
law against the selling of lottery tickets I” 

Charlie and Joe had gone on a moonlight 
excursion down the harbor that evening; so, 
alone, excited, and confused at the succession of 
startling events, Runt neither lighted his gas 
nor left his room, but tossed himself upon the 
bed, trying to figure out how it would all end. 

“Nothing happening,’’ was the burden of 
his thoughts, which ended with the scornful 
words, “and I ’m the chap who came here pur- 
posely to ‘make things happen I’ ” 

With similar reflections and bitter musings 
the evening dragged on wearily. 

Hark! What did he hear? 

A light footfall on the fire-escape. 

lOI 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


He knew he could not be mistaken, yet held 
his breath to hear. 

Some one entered Marvin’s room through 
the window, and as he listened, with his nerves 
strained to the highest tension, by the gliding 
to and fro of the stealthy footsteps. Runt 
seemed to know their mission. 

The stealthy footsteps told that the intruder 
was not on legitimate business; a sharp click 
told that a key had turned in a lock, and then 
Runt knew that the lid of a trunk touched the 
wall. Then all was still. 

With every faculty alert, he listened as he 
moved quietly to his window and waited and 
watched. 

Runt Estey was suddenly seized with one 
thought ! 

If he could only unravel the mystery, per- 
haps it would help Charlie! 

Soon again he heard the stealthy footsteps 
on the fire-escape, and as a figure flitted past 
his window. Runt seized upon it! 

A fearful scream rent the night-air, and 
with a crash that shattered each of the four 
panes of glass the form he had clutched fell 
against the window-sash. 

To Runt’s amazement, he saw Tommy 
102 


MAKING THINGS HAPPEN 


Schepp, the landlady’s twelve-year old unfortu- 
nate son, for he was a victim of epilepsy. 

Frightened by Runt’s grasp upon him, he 
had been taken with one of his dreadful fits. 

For one moment Runt was horror-stricken; 
then he thought to light the gas and to be ready 
to meet his fellow-lodgers, some of whom, with 
Mrs. Schepp, soon entered the room. 

“What does it mean?” asked the boy’s 
mother, anxiously. “What is Tommy doing 
here? I thought he was in bed long ago.” 

“Only another spasm,” was Runt’s reply. 
“He is here on the fire-escape. Shall I lift him 
into the room?” 

“Please do ; he ’ll come out of it in a mo- 
ment or so,” Mrs. Schepp said, sadly. “He 
roams about like this at all hours. The rest 
of you leave the room, please,” speaking to her 
other lodgers. “There is n’t anything can be 
done for him, you know, not a thing.” 

The unfortunate boy soon recovered, and, 
though seemingly dazed, he clutched frantically 
at his pocket, finally drawing out a bunch of 
colored pasteboards, at which Runt first glanced 
casually, then excitedly, as his sharp eyes caught 
the words, “Grand — Cash — Drawing.” 

He at once connected them with the alleged 
robbery. 103 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


“Mrs. Schepp,” he gasped, “is poor 
Tommy a kleptomaniac?” 

“A what?” exclaimed the astonished parent. 

“A kleptomaniac,” persisted Runt. “Does 
he take things? That is, things that do not 
belong to him, you know?” 

“O, Mr. Esteyl Have you found that 
out? O, I ’m so sorry you have ! Yes, he does, 
sometimes, sir,” the unhappy woman admitted, 
slowly. “But I watch him closely and see that 
he does n’t get a chance to take anything from 
any of my lodgers; I keep their doors locked; 
but, then, perhaps you know these epileptic 
people are very, very crafty.” 

“Tommy, my boy,” Runt pleaded, as the 
little fellow seemed to comprehend what was 
said, “have you got any more of these pretty 
cards anywhere?” 

“Yes, in my box, down-stairs.” 

“Let me see them, won’t you?” 

“Yes; you just come with me. I like you 
awfully well; so come along.” 

Runt and the bewildered mother followed 
him as he journeyed confusedly to the basement. 

“In there; that ’s where they are!” Tommy 
finally muttered, as he kicked a small box in 
one corner of a sort of store-room. 

Runt eagerly pulled forth and opened the 
104 


MAKING THINGS HAPPEN 


box. Sure enough, there were the lottery 
tickets he had hoped to find! 

“Tommy, my boy, where did you get 
these?” he asked, kindly, trying hard to curb 
his own excitement. 

“One night,” Tommy answered, slowly. 
“He gave me some one day before that, an’ I 
wanted some more. I knew where he kept ’em, 
an’ w’here the key was, so I got ’em. Ain’t 
they pretty? I like the yellow ones best.” 

“Was that the night he sent for a police- 
man, Tommy?” 

“Yes, that was the night. Just while I was 
getting the cards, some one came on the ’scape; 
so I jumped under the bed, an’ when Walter 
came in sudden an’ run over to his winder, I 
crawled out quick and slipped through the door, 
which he left opened. But I did n’t toss all the 
clothes around. No; I didn’t, honestly!” the 
boy pleaded. “He done that hisself; I know 
he’did!” 

“Charlie is saved!” Runt cried, wildly. 

A few moments later, so eager was he to 
tell the good news to his employer that he star- 
tled a near-by garage keeper nearly out of his 
wits as he demanded the fastest of his machines 
“at any cost.” 

He wanted Charlie freed from the false 
105 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


charge against him, through the medium of the 
morning newspapers; but Mr. Freeman pre- 
vailed upon him to make haste slowly, saying 
that it was the only safe way. In the morning, 
however, he himself displayed an energy in the 
matter that almost belied his maxim. 

Accompanied by counsel, he had an in- 
terview with Marvin in the jail, and, on 
promise to aid the latter out of his difficulties, 
he secured from him a statement to the effect 
that lottery tickets, and not actual money, had 
been taken from him; he maintaining that their 
value to him was twelve hundred dollars; hence 
his story to the police that he had been robbed 
of that amount. 

The office of the district attorney was next 
visited, with the result that long before the 
setting of the sun Charlie knew that by due 
process of law he would receive an honorable 
discharge. 

As again they left the great courthouse 
in Pemberton Square, Mr. Freeman suddenly 
halted and said: “Look here, Charlie, Bourne 
and I discovered this morning that you Ve not 
had your vacation this year. It was a bad over- 
sight; so you ’d better take it now. 

“Estey,” he continued, addressing the other 
happy one, “as a rule we do n’t give a vacation 
io6 


MAKING THINGS HAPPEN 


until a man has been with us a year; but you 
have been to a remarkable extent ‘making 
things happen/ as you say, so you will be the 
exception to our rule. Just take Charlie with 
you for a two-weeks’ outing at that Cape Ann 
home of yours, won’t you? You recall saying 
to me this morning that such a change would 
bring him around all right after these weeks 
of worry. Two weeks, mind, and then we ’ll 
buckle down to solid business with a firm, 
mutual determination to ‘make things happen’ 
at the store. Let us hope, though, Estey, that 
we ’ll have no further call for your service as 
a sleuth I Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha I” 


107 


CHAPTER XI 


As Runt Told It 

“Runt, old fellow,” exclaimed Charlie, 
heartily, as the train pulled out of the North 
Station, and after crossing the bridge that 
spans the beautiful Charles River, glided 
swiftly by the huge stone walls of the Massa- 
chusetts State Prison, “Marvin was so deter- 
mined that I should own up to that theft, that 
you no doubt saved me from spending a few 
years in that dismal-looking place, and I ’ll 
never forget it, old man ! But say, what I ’m 
wondering is, what ’ll you do next, anyw^ay. 
You caught that sneak-thief; you smothered 
that fire ; you kept Joe from drowning, and now 
you saved me from State prison ; what next, old 
man?” 

“Give me something easy, chum,” Runt an- 
swered, with a laugh. “Guess at that pace I ’d 
better lay back on the oars and rest awhile. 
Although I admit there are a few things I ’d 
like to make happen before I fall asleep; for 
instance, run down a chap who years ago 
io8 


AS RUNT TOLD IT 


robbed this father of mine; and, Charlie, 
there ’s another thing, but it ’s also going back 
for years and years, and as neither Lloyd’s, the 
hydrographic office, nor the life-saving reports 
seem to help me any, I guess I ’ve got to be 
richer and wiser before anything else happens. 
See?” 

“How about that affair, anyway. Runt?” 
asked Charlie, as he settled himself back com- 
fortably. “Give me the story, won’t you — 
there ’s lots of time, and now that I ’m to meet 
the parties, I ’ll feel better perhaps to know 
just how it was.” 

“That ’s right,” said Runt, reflectively. 
“Fact is, chum, I ’ve often thought it rather odd 
that as good friends as we have been for almost 
three months now, neither of us has had much 
to say about past events. As for myself, I 
can spin the yarn in no time. 

“Jason Wyndale, my own father, was a 
Down East boy, and, like his people for gen- 
erations back, he was a farmer. One fall, 
when a young man, he came to Boston to at- 
tend some big fair, and in Park Square under- 
took to stop a runaway horse. He did it, all 
right, but a broken leg was the penalty of his 
daring. 

“My marm was the only child of a Boston 
109 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


doctor. She had a fine home, and all was well 
until she was nearly twenty, when the doctor 
died. His second wife not liking my mother 
overmuch, the girl gave up her home, naturally 
got into hospital work, and in time became 
head nurse in the accident ward of the hospital 
to which they brought my father. 

“He was all right, I guess — leastwise so 
marm thought, and she rather liked to hear him 
tell of his home, with a beautiful lake near by, 
and always a grand view of the far-away White 
Mountains over in New Hampshire. 

“He fell in love, proposed, was accepted, 
and on the day of his discharge from the hos- 
pital they were married, and I guess they were 
a mighty happy pair for nigh three years, when 
along came an old schoolmate of father’s — 
named Ames — a shrewd one, and no mistake. 

“He ’d traveled almost everywhere, he said, 
ending up in Alaska, where he believed he had 
struck the real thing in a paying gold mine. He 
wanted money to develop it, and some one to 
go there with him to work it. My mother 
always distrusted him, somehow; but not so 
my father, and Ames used me to spur him on 
to invest in the mine by dwelling on the fact 
that, as things were, there was nothing ahead 
for me but the same pld life of drudgery father 
no 


AS RUNT TOLD IT 


himself had known, and as years went on things 
would be even worse, for the soil was already 
overworked. On the other hand, an Invest- 
ment in the mine meant for the baby and his 
mother a life of ease. 

“ ‘Action means money I’ said Ames. ‘And, 
Jason, for the baby’s sake, act promptly!’ 

“Think of It, Charlie, my father went It 
whole hog! He was an orphan, without rela- 
tions; so was free to do as he would. And 
what did he do but sell the farm outright for 
cold cash, put the money In a satchel, packed 
up, took marm and me along, and started by 
schooner for New York, intending to cross the 
continent by rail. Of course, Ames was with us. 

“That night a steamer collided with our 
schooner. Marm at the time was terribly sea- 
sick, and so took scarcely a passing interest In 
what took place during the confusion that fol- 
lowed. Father stuck by marm, and Ames took 
charge of affairs. He rushed my folks on deck, 
and it seems we and two seamen were actually 
In a boat alongside when suddenly father 
thought of his money-bag down In the cabin! 
And, by George, like a wildcat he scrambled 
aboard! Marm heard him yell to Ames to 
hold the boat for him, but Ames also climbed 
aboard, and the next minute the seamen began 


III 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


rowing like fiends away from the schooner, say- 
ing she was sinking. 

“Marm roused herself enough to scream 
and protest, but they kept on rowing, and sud- 
denly there was a great roaring and a snapping 
of timbers, and just as the boat seemed to begin 
rushing down-hill, some lines were tossed from 
the steamer. These the seamen gripped and 
jumped overboard, leaving marm alone 
with me. 

“She realized fully that the schooner had 
gone down. She felt the boat going, too; so 
she says she just hugged me tightly to her, and 
that then she probably fainted. 

“Near sundown next day our boat was 
sighted by the lookout on a fisherman, and, 
Charlie, single-handed her skipper went after 
us, brought us aboard, doctored marm and me, 
meantime speeding his craft homeward in spite 
of the fact that a bad storm had developed. 
He lived with his parents, and they nursed us 
back to health. 

“The steamer which sunk our schooner was 
so badly disabled as to be almost helpless. All 
the next day she drifted about and was caught 
in the big storm in the teeth of which the skip- 
per had rushed home the castaways. The 
steamer went to pieces ; and, chum, though she 
ua 


AS RUNT TOLD IT 


had picked up five of the folks from the 
schooner, and the gallant life-savers got about 
everybody aboard, there was no trace of either 
my father or Ames. 

“Skipper Estey, of course, read of the col- 
lision and the subsequent loss of the steamer. 
The story of his rescue of a woman and child 
was graphically detailed in all the papers, and 
besides that he even advertised for any informa- 
tion respecting Jason Wyndale; yet there was 
no response, and so when they all believed 
marm was dying from grief, he adopted me. 
Marm eventually got strong again, and so be- 
came housekeeper for the old folks, and there 
you are I 

“An easier life than I had no boy could 
wish. Fair winds and a smooth sea always, 
with the only cloud above me the hobby, as 
I call it, of father to make me go to sea. All 
the same, Charlie, I ’m thinking he will be 
mighty happy at this home-coming. According 
to marm’s letters, he ’s changed almost into an 
angel since the night I left home to earn my 
own living. Sure thing, he likes me, all right, 
in spite of the scolding he gave me that night; 
so we ’ll get the real thing in the way of a 
welcome 1” 

Prophetic words! 


CHAPTER XII 


Runt’s Nightmare 

“Hark! If that isn’t the boy’s footstep 
I miss my guess!” declared Skipper Estey, 
springing from the supper table and peering out 
into the darkness. Then he rushed to the back 
door and called, heartily : 

“Hello, Runt boy; I knew it was you, lad! 
Come in with your tow, and a roaring old 
fo’c’sle night welcome to you both!” 

With great fervor he gripped Runt’s hand; 
then, not waiting for an introduction, he as 
warmly greeted Charlie: “This is a surprise, 
and no mistake, lads; but you’re as welcome 
as if we had known you were coming.” 

With a cry of joy Runt’s mother rushed 
upon her son, yet quickly she accorded the old 
folks a chance to greet him. 

“Father, mother, granddad, grandmarm,’ 
Runt exclaimed, his face glowing, “this is my 
room-mate, Charlie Hill. His innocence of 
that charge against him was proven last night, 
and to-day Mr. Freeman gave us both a two- 
114 


RUNT’S NIGHTMARE 


weeks’ vacation; so here we are, ready for all 
the fun that can be crowded into the fourteen 
days — I ’m glad you give us such a royal wel- 
come I” 

For a moment Runt paused to draw breath, 
‘‘Steamed clams, eh?” he called, as his eyes 
rested upon the table. “Good enough. That 
just suits me, all right! Come, Charlie, and 
let’s help finish the supply!” 

“I ’m glad you rode out every storm, lad, 
nor wore ashore, either,” Skipper Estey said, 
later, when Runt ended the story of his expe- 
riences. “It all proves you a stanch, able 
craft, and I ’m proud of you. I ’m glad, too, 
that you shipped under Skipper Freeman. A 
knowledge of the clothing business is a good 
stick to rely upon, for there ’s alius a demand 
for clothing; whereas literature, as they call it, 
is just the reverse. You go along for awhile, 
all right, mebbe, but with the first gale it goes 
by the board, carrying everything with it. So 
you think that Portuguese a regular Samson, 
do you?” 

“That ’s just about what I do think, father ! 
Gee, whiz! the way I did fly through space!” 

“Can he talk French?’ 

Something in the tone of his voice led Runt 
to look up quickly, and seeing the twinkling eyes 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


of the skipper, the boy leaped to his feet, and, 
rushing upon him, exclaimed, earnestly: “Fa- 
ther, was it you ? Was it ? O, how dense I am I 
I might have known it I I ought to have 
known it!” 

Then, impulsively, he seized the skipper’s 
huge right hand. “Forgive me, father,” he 
said, brokenly, “if ever — ever — I had done 
anything to annoy or worry you.” 

The boy was deeply affected, but Skipper 
Estey threw an arm about his waist and, draw- 
ing him close beside him, said, chokingly, “It ’s 
all right, Runt boy, forget it.” 

Runt’s mother had also come beside the 
skipper, and, placing a hand upon either cheek, 
she kissed his brow, as she murmured, happily : 
“You never told us about this. Captain Estey. 
O, how good it was for you! how good at a 
time when you knew he was — ” 

“Tut — tut — little woman; as I said to the 
boy, forget it. Come, fall in, all hands!” he 
called, cheerily. “We’ve got company; so it 
is n’t a good time for tears. Let ’s all be 
happy.” 

When the little group was again at the 
table, he suddenly exclaimed: “I ’ll tell you how 
I came to do it. Runt boy; for ’t was all due 
to your own doings. In making for home after 
ii6 


RUNT’S NIGHTMARE 


getting that Dix paper, I was hailed by about 
ev’ry one I met, and if I spoke in passing, it 
was only to be told and retold of the little 
affair of the afternoon up there on the ball 
grounds when you took a stand for fair play. 

“I like nerve. Runt, and the more I thought 
of you standing there upholding a good prin- 
ciple, the less angry I got. 

“It ’s this way, Charlie,” he added, turning 
to Runt’s chum; “or at least this is my way of 
thinking. There is no human being but is 
tempted from within; no, not one. The yield- 
ing to that first impulse often leads into wrong- 
doing, and the way to prevent that is to just get 
off alone by yourself and fight it out. Know 
for sure which is the right side, which is the 
wrong side. Look ahead, and see what conse- 
quences a wrong spin of the wheel may bring 
on, and that ’ll settle the whole thing. 

“I had my tussle with myself the night Runt 
here picked up and left us, and his stand for 
fair play finally decided my actions. He is 
only a boy, I argued, and so he ’s chock full of 
the spirit of a boy; and, well, lad, I got so sorry 
for my part of it all that I felt impelled, as it 
were, to satisfy myself that he reached port 
all right. Ha-ha-ha I Can he talk French? 
Runt boy, I believe if I were dying and recalled 
117 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


that question of yours I *d laugh my way clear 
into heaven, you were so in earnest about it. 
Well, all ’s well that ends well, folks say, and 
sure thing, your stand for fair play ended well 
for you at Norman’s!” 

“Captain Estey, how did you come to give 
your schooner such an altogether uncommon 
name?” Charlie asked, as again he passed his 
plate for clams. 

The skipper chuckled. “That ’s a long 
story, lad. You see, even before I was as old 
as you fellows I was before the mast. Casu- 
alties at sea, my lad, are about as common as 
seiners along the coast in the spring. We met 
one of them; so I never reached my destination, 
but pitched up on one of the Fiji Islands, and 
as a sort of reminder of my experience I named 
the old tub that way.” 

“Captain,” said Charlie, earnestly, “let me 
hear that experience, will you? I am only a 
land-lubber, as you seafaring men call us, yet 
I can’t get enough of sea stories. I hope you ’ll 
give us a sail on the Fiji, I ’d like nothing 
better, truly.” 

The eyes of the skipper sparkled with de- 
light. “You ’d ought to have been a sailor,” 
he said, approvingly. 

“Tell the story, Ed,” said his father, 
ii8 


RUNT’S NIGHTMARE 


eagerly; “it’s years since you told it; so do, 
now, for all of us.’’ 

“That’s right, father; tell it, please,’’ 
chimed in Runt. 

“Well, you all seem for it; so here goes. 
It ’s this way, Charlie; ask the hardy, old Down 
East coasting skippers where the roughest, 
wildest, and most dreaded bits of water be- 
tween Kittery Point and Quoddy Head are, 
and those who do not tell you Great Head, on 
Mount Desert, will surely pick Bass Harbor 
Head, close by; and there was my birthplace, 
and amid the eternal conflict of winds and 
waves I was brought up. So, little wonder, 
perhaps, that I ’ve always been of a restless, 
wild, roving disposition. I believe I always 
hankered for the sea. Anyway quite early in 
life I wanted to visit India and China — the 
wonderful other side of the world, of which 
I ’d heard my own father tell so much — but 
somehow I could n’t get the full consent of my 
parents. They said I was too young; so one 
night I slipped my anchor and eventually 
drifted into Boston, where I shipped for Callao, 
in far-away Peru. We left Boston in Septem- 
ber — the fifth — and for a few days had fair 
weather and plain sailing; but then things 
changed, and for nearly two weeks we had 
I19 


ON AND OFF SHORE 

rough seas and gales to contend with all the 
time. 

“We crossed the equator on the eleventh 
of October, and on the seventh of November 
rounded Cape Horn. On the tenth of that 
month all hands came within an ace of losing 
their lives. All at once the wind shifted from 
nor’west to sou’east, and the ship was struck 
aback with terrific force, throwing her on her 
beam ends, with her lee rail under water amid- 
ships. Mountainous waves deluged the decks, 
and for some moments it looked as if she would 
never shake herself clear. But after laboring 
and straining awhile, she righted; meanwhile, 
however, her fore upper tops’l and the main 
lower tops’l were torn to shreds. Luckily we 
had but little canvas set, else we ’d surely been 
hove down. 

“Well, lad, by the next day that gale had 
become a tempest, and the old hulk labored 
heavily. That night it became a certain thing 
she was doomed, and orders were given to 
man the boats, and we got away just as a stiff 
wind caught her broadside. She rolled slowly 
over, stayed over a minute or so, and then sunk. 
Indeed, lad, our men had all they could do to 
hold the boats back out of the vortex of the 
huge whirlpool caused by the submersion. You 
120 


RUNT’S NIGHTMARE 


see, I was getting lots of medicine, eh? But, 
pshaw ! lad, all that was but the physical school 
of training for the old-time sailor, when the 
word ‘sailor’ meant something! 

“It had been hard to get water and provi- 
sions aboard the boats; so only what was handy 
was loaded in, and as it happened, the other 
boat got the larger share of both, which was 
unfortunate, as we got separated in the dark- 
ness, and the food we did have got soaked in 
the salt water. But it was n’t food we craved 
— only water! 

“The thirst of the men at the oars was ter- 
rible, but they kept pulling away until their 
swollen tongues hung from their mouths; and, 
lad, all the time the stare in their eyes grew 
more and more awful, and you can guess mebbe 
how hard it was for a youngster like myself 
to have to look upon such sufferings. 

“Ev’ry little while an oar would drop in 
its lock, while the oarsman, unable to hold 
out any longer, would rise up, look wildly 
around him, and then plunge overboard. Yet 
it was a relief to the rest of us to see the poor 
chap go! In time not one of us had strength 
even to move, and after that three more died, 
right in the boat. It was enough to drive the 
survivors stark mad! Well, I reckon it was 


I2I 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


the eighteenth day after leaving the wreck that, 
about daybreak, we grounded on a sandy beach. 
Bones and me. I called the other chap Bones 
because he was the skinniest mortal alive, and 
somehow I was always strong on nicknaming 
every one. I gave the boy here his name — 
Runt.” 

“Where do I come in with a name?” Char- 
lie asked, smilingly. 

“I do n’t know yet. That ’ll come in time. 
You seem to cling pretty well to what you run 
up against; so perhaps it ’ll be ‘Squid.’ ” 

Runt roared with laughter as he exclaimed; 
“Hurrah for father! Good-bye Charlie, and 
hello. Squid! But I say, father, keep at the 
story, please.” 

“Well, pretty soon the natives espied us. 
They were a savage lot, no mistake ; yet, some- 
how they not only spared us, but actu’ly cared 
for us, and on the whole I got to like them 
pretty well, when, about six months afterwards, 
in a gale, a whaler hove to, under bare poles 
(that means she stopped with her bow to 
the wind, and no canvas set), but her anchors 
dragged, and bime-by she came ashore, with- 
out damaging herself much. At high tide, by 
the laborious work of her crew, she was pulled 
off just as she was beginning to roll on her 
122 


RUNT’S NIGHTMARE 


back, and then and there I got the chance to 
board ship and get away.” 

“Captain Estey,” said Charlie, enthusias- 
tically, “yours is the tale of a survivor, and as 
such I appreciate every word of it. Did you 
get home all right?” 

“Yes, Squid, I did,” replied the skipper, 
heartily, for he was well pleased at having 
such a good listener. “After more than two 
years of cruising in the land of eternal winter, 
where land, sea, and air are ever against you, 
and later in the Caribbean Sea, chasing the 
black-gray, barnacle-covered monsters, I did get 
home. Whaling in those days, lad, was a thriv- 
ing industry; but I didn’t have any whaling 
blood in my veins, and as the Polly Ann was 
an old-type whaler, I was glad to quit and get 
in under the parental roof, where the folks 
here forgave me for deserting them, and sub- 
sequently came here to live, and I ’ve stood by 
them ever since.” 

“Isn’t whaling dangerous work. Captain? 
Did you ever harpoon a whale?” asked Charlie. 

“To that last question, lad, no; for I always 
went in the first boat and handled an oar. That 
is the captain’s boat, you know, and the honor 
of the first iron is his, and gener’ly that settles 
matters. Then, too. Bones — Confound him I 
123 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


I say. Why is it that that fellow’s name ever- 
lastingly thrusts itself upon me? But there 
we’ve got company; so I’ll not say another 
word about the skunk. Good-night, all ; I ’m 
going to bed I I wish I ’d never fouled with 
such a mean one!” 

With giant strides he left the room. 

“It is strange,” said Runt, quietly, after the 
boys had turned in for the night; “more than 
strange, how readily father lashes himself into 
a fury at the mere mention of that chap I His 
real name is Roseland.” 

In his dreams that night Runt himself was 
perpetually being troubled by Bones. Once, 
as he slept, the manuscript of a story which 
he had sent to a publisher came back; but just 
as Runt received it from the postman, a high 
wind bore it away. Wildly he tore after it, 
and just at the moment he was about to seize 
it. Bones appeared, caught it up, and ran swiftly 
away. After leaping a chasm, he turned and 
waved aloft the manuscript in one hand and 
in the other a chart. 

“Here ’s the location of your gold mine,” 
he cried, tauntingly; “why do n’t you reach out 
and get it?” 

As Runt leaped the chasm, Marvin ap- 
peared and clutched him, pulling him backward 
124 


RUNT’S NIGHTMARE 


and down — down — down, just as Joe Powers 
had done at the Fourth of July picnic. Charlie 
had saved him then; who could save him now? 

Runt awakened with a violent start; then 
slowly the truth dawned on him, and he mut- 
tered, savagely: “I ate too many steamed clams. 
’T was only a nightmare 1” 


125 


CHAPTER XIII 


The Rescue of Cap*n Dan Ellis 

“Heave ho; start the chain, lads!” called 
the skipper, in a rollicking mood. “Get her 
under way lively now! Let go the stern line, 
there ! Run a line out to ease her bow off that 
wharf ahead — Hoist the mains’l. Up jib, and 
away! We’ve got passengers this trip, lads. 
Show ’em what you ’re made of ! Here, Gene, 
you take the wheel while we ’re working out 
of the harbor. Now the fore, and that ’ll do 
for a starter; but after passing the buoy we ’ll 
wing her out!” 

That he was in such good humor surprised 
the hardy fishermen, and while obeying orders 
they managed many a chance to talk about it. 

“What ’s struck the old man this time, 
Tom? My, but ain’t he sweet!” 

“Hist, Jim — it ’s the boy, that ’s what did 
it! Watch his eyes half a minute, an’ you’ll 
see how he dotes on the little chap. He ’s a 
queer one, Ed is, an’ no mistake!” 

A few days after Runt’s return home, 
126 



CAP’N DAN 









THE RESCUE OF CAP’N DAN ELLIS 


shortly after six bells of the forenoon watch, 
the two boys, accompanied by the skipper, had 
boarded the Fiji, 

The gear, provisions, water, bait, salt, and 
ice had all been taken on board and snugly 
stowed away, and the tide serving right, the 
skipper’s orders rang out from the moment he 
went over the rail. 

A stiff southwesterly wind was blowing so 
that the Fiji speedily worked her way out of the 
harbor. After passing Eastern Point, with her 
course shaped south by east, one-half east, she 
went bounding away before the wind. 

The glow of gladness on the skipper’s face 
enthused the men to do their best work, and 
the sails were quickly standing like great white 
walls above them. 

“Isn’t the Fiji able-looking, lads?” the 
happy skipper called, loudly, to the boys. 

“She certainly is, father,” Runt answered, 
admiringly. 

“Right you are,” Charlie called, joyously. 
“Just see how she scuds before the wind I How 
fast is she. Captain?” 

“Well, after passing Thatcher’s Island, 
there, on our port side, mebbe I dare spread 
a few more of the white wings, if you ’d like, 
and then mebbe we ’d do eight knots,” the skip- 
127 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


per answered, with twinkling eyes, as he noted 
the small red-and-blue flag fluttering from the 
topmast; “y^s, eight knots, mebbe,” he re- 
peated. 

“Eight I” exclaimed Charlie. “There 
would n’t be thirty seconds in the half minute 
that at least fourteen knots did not run off the 
reel ! Why, there ’s nothing to prevent her 
being a flyer! Just watch how she goes skip- 
ping along like a thing of life! Say fourteen 
knots. Captain. Am I right?” 

As Charlie was speaking, the skipper’s face 
bespoke surprise, pleasure, and admiration ; but 
he continued his quizzing tone as he answered : 

“Sho, now, lad! Mebbe you take us for 
an ocean liner or a revenue cutter. Fourteen 
knots is pretty fast sailing, lad!” 

“Captain Estey,” said Charlie, “I do n’t 
set up to be an expert, but the sea is my passion. 
Each summer holiday and Wednesday after- 
noons off, I ’m either cruising along shore in a 
hired motor-boat or yachting, or where there ’s 
any boat-racing going on, or down at the very 
end of the ocean pier at City Point, so I can 
watch the maneuverings of the different boats. 
I am familiar with the special marks of many 
of them; am somewhat acquainted with nau- 
tical terms, and so, without bragging, I think 
128 


THE RESCUE OF CAP’N DAN ELLIS 


I may say I know what a fast craft is. Laugh 
if you will, but I ’m going to stand by my 
guess I’* 

“Well, well, lad; you’re almost a sailor, 
aren’t you?” the skipper said, jokingly, not 
caring to show just yet how well pleased he 
was with Charlie’s enthusiasm. “Come, now; 
can you tell me how many feet in a knot on 
a log line?’ 

“Nearly fifty-one, sir.” 

“Well, how many feet in a nautical mile?” 

“Six thousand and eighty.” 

“Sho’, now. Well, then, lad, which is our 
starboard quarter?’ 

“Right here, where we are, sir,” Charlie 
answered, “because I am facing the bow, and 
so at my right is the starboard rail.” 

“Now then. Mebbe you can box the com- 
pass?” 

Rapidly Charlie began: “North, north by 
east; north, northeast — ” 

“Lad, why aren’t you a sailor?” the skip- 
per interrupted, fairly shouting as he added: 
“It ’s born in you I It ’s been shining in your 
eyes since the minute we left the dock! Why 
are n’t you a sailor?” 

“Because I never had the chance, I guess. 
You see. Captain, I ’ve had a life of ups and 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


downs. I never remember a real home. My 
parents were missionaries, and both died in a 
foreign field. When eleven I became a news- 
boy, and the influence in the Newsboys’ Home 
proved a blessing to me, for the benefits of 
night study are strongly impressed upon the 
boys. When I was twelve I built up a paper 
route among the stores along Washington 
Street, and somehow, while going among my 
customers in his store, Mr. Freeman took a 
liking to me and gave me steady work. I went 
there when fourteen, and have been with him 
nearly three years; so you see I Ve not had 
much chance to become a sailor, have I? But 
come. Captain, what speed has the Fiji, 
please?” 

“Well, lad, you was n’t far off, I guess. 
Let it go at that, and mebbe we ’ll get a chance 
this trip to see what we can see, eh? So you 
like her looks, do you?” 

“No one could help doing so,” Charlie an- 
swered; and then, addressing Tom Dolbeare, 
who was near by, straightening things, he 
called, laughingly, “I say, sir, can the Fiji sail?” 

“Can she sail? Can she?” Tom responded, 
opening wide his eyes, as if incredulous that 
such a question had been asked. “I ’m thinkin’ 
she can, yes. Why, boy, she ’s a wizard on 
130 


THE RESCUE OF CAP’N DAN ELLIS 


speed I Last time up from the herring ground 
all the conditions were favorable, and for six 
consecutive hours she cut out her fifteen knots 
an hour! 

“Away ahead on the horizon we ’d see a 
blotch of smoke ; then in a little while we ’d 
make out it came from a tramp steamer bound 
our way. Next you know, the Fiji was skitin’ 
along beside the tramp, an’ soon we lost sight 
of her astern; an’, boy, ’pon my word, she’s 
done that little trick many a time I” 

Charlie showed his pleasure at having his 
judgment so enthusiastically verified, and Skip- 
per Estey also was pleased, for when prepared 
to build a schooner of his own, he had looked 
far ahead into the future, and, studying the 
business of fishing, he had become convinced 
that progress, profit, and success could alone 
be attained by a speedy craft, in order that the 
catch might be got to market in the shortest 
possible time, as a matter even of a few hours 
might mean the difference between an unprofit- 
able cargo and one bringing a big premium. 

Through his convictions was evolved an ad- 
vanced type of fishing boat with a clean-cut 
model, having all the beautiful lines of a yacht, 
and capable of developing the speed of many 
an ocean liner. 

131 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


“Say, Runt, suppose we call the Fiji the un- 
challenged queen of fishing fleets?” said Char- 
lie, rousing his chum from a pleasant reverie, as 
he leaned against the bulwarks, looking far 
across the water. 

“O, she ’s the queen of fishers, all right,” 
was the hearty response. “You ’ll get all that 
in a song some fo’c’s’le night.” 

“What sails does she carry. Captain?” 

“Well, lad, you do like her; that ’s a fact,” 
the skipper said, glowingly. “As to her sails, 
in the spring, summer, and fall she carries bal- 
loon, jib, jumbo fores’l, mains’l, foretops’l, 
maintops’l, and stays’l. In winter both top 
masts are taken down and only the jib, jumbo, 
fore, and main used. Then, in heavy weather 
or in gales, when we can’t carry the main, why, 
we use our tris’l, or ridings’l, as some call it. 

“Yes, lad, the Fiji is O. K. She ’s a stanch 
craft, rides at anchor securely, and gets to 
wind’ard quickly. You see, Charlie, we now 
build especially to weather storms off the Banks, 
for there is n’t much of a haven thereabouts, 
and wind and weather change at a minute’s 
notice. In winter it ’s hard lines, as you may 
believe, with snowstorms sweeping the coast 
and sea, and fog heavy enough to walk on if 
you had snowshoes!” 


132 


THE RESCUE OF CAPN DAN ELLIS 


“Does it pay financially, Captain?” asked 
Charlie. “There are so many in the business. 
Why, the water-front at Gloucester is a perfect 
forest of masts!” 

“Well, I reckon they all make something 
at it,” the skipper answered, good-naturedly. 
“On our first trip this month we brought back 
a full cargo of herring, and did fairly well, 
stocking over two thousand dollars. Then we 
skipped around Newfoundland and off the coast 
of Labrador for halibut, and our catch 
amounted to nearly seventy thousand fresh fish, 
stocking over three thousand dollars; so, lad, 
I guess it pays ; that is, providing you get back 
all right, and the prices are up. That ’s the 
main point — the prices!” 

“How about mackerel, sir? I ’ve often 
read of Gloucester being mackerel-mad. 
Where do you catch them mostly, and how is 
it done, and does that pay well?” 

“Mebbe if I tell you all this, you ’ll be want- 
ing to share the rigors and hazards of a fisher- 
man’s lot,” the skipper said, slowly. 

“Maybe I shall. Captain. Indeed, that ’s 
what ’s in my mind when I ask these questions. 
Where would I begin — before the mast, as 
they say?” he added, with a half smile, as he 
looked the skipper squarely in the eye. 

133 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


“Do you mean it, lad? Do you mean it?’’ 

“Yes, sir; I believe I do,” the boy answered, 
seriously. “In all my life I have never been 
so happy as since I came aboard the Fiji* If 
it ’s in me to be a sailor, why should n’t I be ? 
Where would I begin?” 

“Think it over,” said the skipper, excitedly. 
“Think it over. Squid, boy, and watch us this 
trip, to see how you like it. Mebbe I could 
make a place for you, and mebbe — ” 

“Ding-ding I Ding-dong!” 

The cook’s bell announced dinner, and they 
went below. 

After the meal all hands were called aft to 
thumb the hat in order that the watch might 
be set. The crew gathered about an inverted 
sou’wester; each man talking hold of it so that 
his thumb was on top of the rim. 

“We ’ll say four this time,” said the skip- 
per; then, turning his head away, he reached 
in between the men and touched a thumb. 
From left to right the men then counted, “One, 
two, three, four,” and Eugene Paul had the 
first watch. The counting continued until each 
man knew his watch, and the performance 
ended with the skipper saying, “Remember now 
whom you call!” 

Gene, having the first watch, took the wheel. 

134 


THE RESCUE OF CAP’N DAN ELLIS 


The patent log was put out, and a note made 
of bearings and distance of the land. 

The next thing to interest the boys was a 
tour of inspection. Comfort for the crew was 
one of the things sought in the construction of 
the Fiji, and the cabins were fitted with all 
modern conveniences, even to the patent stoves, 
while both forecastle and galley were roomy, 
with ample accommodations for a crew of 
eighteen men. 

After a look at the spacious hold, which be- 
spoke her great carrying capacity, the boys 
went forward among the crew and were enjoy- 
ing the jokes, when, at seven bells of the after- 
noon watch, the lookout aloft reported land 
ahead, and a half hour later, as they were 
eagerly watching the great expanse of white 
sand along Cape Cod, they saw two dory 
fishermen, who, with an overloaded boat, were 
returning to Provincetown. 

In rounding Long Point the boat was struck 
by a sharp gust of wind, capsizing the craft, 
and as it went to the bottom like a stone, the 
fishermen were left struggling in the waves. 

“Two men overboard on the port bow!” 
called the lookout. 

“Lower boat and dory, and after them!” 
shouted the skipper; and although every man 

135 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


on board rushed amidships to go to the rescue, 
hardly had the dory gone overside, than Runt 
and Charlie, each grasping an oar, were on the 
thwarts; and at a good, strong stroke away 
they pulled. 

Two other fishermen, some distance behind 
their townsmen, had witnessed the mishap, and 
with all possible haste they rowed toward the 
unfortunate men. 

The Fiji^s boat, manned by Tom Dol- 
beare, Jim Pitt, Bill Taylor, and young Will 
Oxford, was now leaping from wave to wave, 
and Skipper Estey watched the triple race with 
keen interest. 

“Look, Gene ! Look, will you 1” he called, 
eagerly. “See how the poor devils are drifting 
apart! Our boat will reach its man, sure; but 
see how hot the dorymen and our boys are after 
the other one ! I ’d love to see the boys get 
him!” 

“I ’m thinking they will, Ed. They ’re pull- 
ing together strong and steady, and they ’ve got 
grit, both of them; and that’s what counts in 
boys. Just look at the stroke they are rowing : 
quick, hard, and strong, with arms, legs, and 
back all in it!” 

Nothing spurs one on to more strenuous ef- 
fort than the chance to save the life of a fel- 

136 


THE RESCUE OF CAFN DAN ELLIS 


low-man ; and with all their might the two boys 
were rowing. 

“Pull, Squid; pull!’’ called Runt. 

“Pull, Runt; pull hard! You’re getting 
slow, awful slow! Are you used up?” 

“No, siree; not by a good deal!” Runt 
called, hoarsely, though his arms and wrists 
ached so badly he could scarcely hold his oar. 

Charlie was in a similar plight; yet, with 
nerves strained to the highest pitch, they both 
were rowing strong, and the dory forged ahead, 
although it was difficult work in the high-run- 
ning, yeasty sea. 

The men in peril were battling manfully 
for their lives ; but they had drifted fully fifteen 
feet apart before the Fiji^s boat had reached 
one of them. 

Runt witnessed Tom Dolbeare’s rescue of 
the man, and seeing that the dorymen were 
rapidly approaching the other unfortunate, he 
quickly passed his oar to Charlie, and, standing 
forward, braced himself, and with all his re- 
maining strength hurled a rope toward the 
other drowning one. 

At the same instant a doryman also threw 
a line, and a great joy leaped in Runt’s heart 
when he saw that his own was the better throw, 
and that his rope was the one seized. 

137 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


“He ’s ours, Squid. We Ve got him ! Pull 
easy now!” he shouted, as steadily and swiftly 
he drew in on the line. 

The dorymen rowed over, and with their 
help the old fisherman was drawn into the 
boys’ boat in an almost exhausted condition. 

“ ’T was a hair-breadth escape,” he said, 
earnestly, “and I ’m obliged to all four of you, 
for I ’d lost the game without help. Our catch 
was too big. I told my mate it was, but he 
called it good luck, so stuck to keeping it. The 
boat was his ’n; so I ain’t anything out, but it 
settles one thing, that’s sartini Yes, this set- 
tles it sure I” 

“Settles what?” Runt asked. 

“Well, boy, that is the second time I ’ve 
been nigh drowned, and I ’m not going to give 
the waves a third chance! Lin, my boy up in 
Boston, has been writing me about an eating- 
house that ’s for sale, near him, on ’Lantic Av’- 
nue. He wants me to quit fishing and buy out 
that place. I ’m kind of used to the business, 
for I was cook aboard one steamer, alone, nigh 
on to five years. Yes, this settles the p’int; 
I ’ll run that eating-house at number ten, and 
that goes, says I, or my name ain’t Dan’l Web- 
ster Ellis!” 



ALONG THE WHARVES 




CHAPTER XIV 


A Fo’c’stle Night 

Snug in harbor, anchor down, sails furled, 
and pipes lighted, the crew of the Fiji waited 
patiently for what they knew was coming, for, 
among all skippers out of T Wharf or out of 
Gloucester, for w^hole-hearted hospitality none 
had so great a reputation as did Ed Estey. 

Many skippers had been seriously incon- 
venienced for days by a lamentable scarcity of 
bait, so that on the evening of the rescue of 
Captain Dan Ellis off Long Point an unusually 
large number of the fleet were at anchor in the 
harbor, and shortly after two bells of the last 
dog watch many a dory was thrown overside 
from each schooner, and the Fiji was the mecca 
for them all, until her forecastle was crowded 
to its limit. 

In very truth it was “a rip-roaring, rollick- 
ing old fo’c’stle night;” sea lore alone, in story 
and song, prevailing. 

Skipper Ed, as he noticed the eagerness and 

139 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


attention of the two boys, fairly outdid himself 
as a host, meanwhile chuckling gleefully, and 
murmuring softly to himself: “Runt is coming. 
Yes, the boy is coming fast. There ’s salt 
water in him somewhere, after all.” 

“Hello, all ban’s!” called a new arrival, 
heartily; and then, as he paused to light his 
pipe, he continued: “I’ve been into the town 
to-night, an’ what d’ ye s’pose they doled out 
to me as news? That off the shoal ground at 
Wellfleet this afternoon some one sighted a 
lot of whales! What nonsense? I s’pose by 
this time to-morrow they ’ll be fightin’ whales, 
the kind we read about, but none of us ever saw. 
’T was a whale that swallowed Jonah, you 
know; ain’t I right, Ed?” 

His very manner demanded a laugh, and as 
it ended. Skipper Ed called to him, “How old 
are you, Pete?” 

“Twenty-six, mebbe. Why?” 

“Then I ’m some older than you; ain’t I?” 
the host chuckled. “Why, Pete, lad, as lately 
as three bells of the first dog watch, as I leaned 
over the rail I was trying hard to fancy things 
in the harbor were just as they were the first 
time I came here, in seventy-nine, when in these 
same w^aters I have chased, aye, and killed, 
many a finback! Isn’t that so, Ellis?” he 
140 


A FO’C’STLE NIGHT 


called to the old fisherman Runt and his chum 
had rescued. 

“No one knows that better ’n I do,” the 
old man answered, slowly. “For days at a 
time not a mite of food could any native eat 
when the winds blew to us the odor from the 
rendering shacks along the beach. My, it jus’ 
was awful, with more ’n three hundred dead 
whales out on the beach at one time, and all 
finbacks, too!” 

“Is there much difference in whales. Cap- 
tain Estey?” asked Charlie, who was seated be- 
side the skipper. 

“Good land, yes!” was the emphatic an- 
swer. “You see, lad, I was only about your 
age when I was in the business strong and hard; 
but I easily learned to tell them a mile off. 
The bow-heads are big payers. Why, every 
one of them is good for more than two hun- 
dred barrels of oil and nigh a ton of bone. 
That pays ! But, lads, right whales are better 
yet! We get them in middle warm waters. 
They are terrors, though, that kind, and fight 
till clean played out ! Do n’t you pooh-hoo 
any straight tip about fighting whales, Pete ; for 
the whaling grounds are swarmed with them! 
Why, in one minute I onct saw seventeen men 
wiped clean out of existence, and the eighteenth 
141 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


man of the twenty that went to the chase was 
so badly injured that soon afterwards he 
dropped anchor ! 

“It was in the Caribbean Sea, and our cap’n 
was laying a course for home, when we sighted 
two of the great mammals to starboard, and at 
onct the davits swung out, and two boats were 
off, for the getting away is rapid work, lads, 
as everything is alius ready. The first officer 
had the waist boat and nine men, while I was 
next the for’ard man in the quarter boat, the 
cap’n steering. We led the chase, the cap’n 
choosing the headmost balaena, calling back to 
the other boat that we ’d strike together. Our 
meat was just lolling there in the sun, and a 
monster he was, too. Unbeknowns we came 
upon him, and the cap’n hurled the iron, but it 
struck a non-vital spot some fifteen feet from 
the tail, and the next minute our fun com- 
menced. The big black mound was all action, 
and off he went at a fearful rate, faster than 
any of these pesky motor-boats or any of those 
air-craft ever thought of going — plowing up 
the water — and towing us astern with our bow 
under and our seventy fathoms of line scream- 
ing from the tubs aft, as it darted by us and out 
through the sheaves at the bowl I tell you, 
lads, it was merry music and a mighty exciting 
142 


A FO’C’STLE NIGHT 


time for a mere boy like me; for such an ex- 
perience is a mighty rare thing! 

“There stood ‘Bones/ his face all aglow, 
braced firm and with an uplifted ax ready to 
cut the line the minute there seemed danger 
of us being drawn under. There was our 
for’ard man leaning back on the tow line, grip- 
ping it like grim death, and not daring to let 
go as we took our sleigh ride right under the 
big fin! 

“Oddly enough the waist boat had got in 
a similar fix, and to port they came, their great 
wounded monster headed west-sou’west, and 
towing them along at even a faster clip than 
we were going; for soon they actu’ly passed us, 
their oars backing water for dear life, as they 
tried to check their speed; but it was wasted 
energy; and so, with them ahead, on and on 
we whizzed, and no let-up. We had pulled 
up on our line as close as we dared, when Bones 
called out: ‘Let me try just one, will you, 
Cap’n? We Ve safe enough for a minute. 
The old bull won’t sound!’ 

“We wanted that whale, and wanted it bad. 

“‘All right. Go ahead, and good luck!’ 
our cap’n answered. 

“Bill Armstrong gripped the line firmer as 
he lay over the bowseat. Bones gave me the 

143 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


ax, saw the bight of whale line was O. K., 
took up a lance, poised, and drew back his 
sinewy arm for the aim he meant should find 
the life of the maddened rorqual. He was only 
a young fellow, being not so very much older 
than myself, but he was slim, agile, and strong 
as an ox; and as he stood there, his face set 
stern and cold, and his gray eyes fairly snap- 
ping, in my heart I thought him a perfect pic- 
ture of fearlessness. Then his arm shot out, 
and we bumped up against a dead whale! 

“Whether our meat hollared, or signalled 
to his companion, who can tell? I believe it 
did, for the next instant the waist boat turned 
about on her heels, and straight back came her 
big leviathan of the deep ; and, as if to avenge 
the death of its mate, that monster’s head 
drove kerplunk into our boat, amidships 1 

“Those of us not killed outright, lads, strug- 
gled about expecting help from the other boat; 
but it never came. If they cut their line at all, 
’t was too late. The great mass had sounded, 
and ’twas ‘goodbye, all hands!’ or mebbe as 
the whale turned, the boat got under the lash 
of the tail; anyway, not a man of them ever 
even came to the surface ! So there, Pete, you 
elongated old seine heaver, what say you now 
about fighting whales?” 

144 


A FO’C’STLE NIGHT 


“Ed, old man, I *m clean beaten, for a fact; 
but why in thunder have n’t you spun that yarn 
afore, that’s what I ’d like to know?” 

“Because it ends bad,” the skipper said, as 
his whole manner suddenly changed. Then, as 
if by impulse, he added: 

“Well, lads, here goes; but first let me 
ease off by saying. Confound that fellow. Bones, 
and may he never know peace of mind, as they 
say, until I get back my belongin’s. 

“Bill Armstrong had a hip broken and his 
side crushed. We ’d been good chums, and 
with the aid of a bit of the wrecked boat I 
did my mightiest to buoy him up till the relief 
boat from the old hooker should reach us; but 
’t was too long coming, and, exhausted from 
pain, I suppose, he went down in spite of me. 
While we two clung there by ourselves he told 
me a big secret. He ’d gone mining before tak- 
ing up whaling, and in a rough, out-of-the-way 
section on the Yukon he said he found a gray 
quartz literally filled with the precious metal. 
He broke off a few bits, pounded them up in 
his fry-pan, and actually picked out the gold 
with his fingers, the pieces were so large. He 
staked off his claim and, to keep in accord with 
the law, he tramped back to town, paid in his 
145 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


forty-five dollars, and received his ‘right,’ as 
they called the deed, which is duly registered. 

“His find being far off any regular course, 
he ’d charted the route to it during his tramp 
to the town, and his chart with the deed he 
tucked away in a chamois belt he wore about 
his waist. 

“Well, in getting back to his claim. Bill fell 
in with a pretty hard citizen, and somehow they 
got to wrangling. The other fellow tried to 
rob Bill of the chamois belt; but when it was 
over. Bill, badly wounded, found himself the 
only living being in that part of the world. 
With almost his last breath Bill told me, as 
God was his witness, ’t was all accident’ly, 
done in self-defense; but for all that, poor fel- 
low, he fled the country, and, though he kept 
up the yearly fee for holding his claim, he 
never got up spunk enough to return; so beyond 
doubt, lads, the hidden lode is to-day exactly 
as he left it. It might all be mine but for that 
fellow Bones — Dick Roseland was his name; 
but that amounts to nothing, for yours truly, 
here, was Tom Williams; for you see I was 
afraid my folks would try to head me off in 
getting away to sea. 

“Bill called out to Bones to bear witness 
that if I got back to the ship, his outfit aboard 
146 


A FO’C’STLE NIGHT 


was to be mine, and he told me this included 
the chart — giving the location of the gold mine 
— and the deed. Bill’s life-voyage ended just 
about then, and later Bones and I were picked 
up and put back aboard the whaler. I never 
connected with anything of any value, however, 
for the very night we rounded Brant Point, 
Bones looted Bill’s chest and quietly slipped his 
moorings, and but onct since have I set eyes on 
the thieving skunk. That was nigh two years 
ago, lads. He came among the crowd of on- 
lookers at the end of T Wharf just after we 
had warped the Fiji outside. 

“Say, lads, mug up; mug up, ev’rybody!” 
he suddenly called. “And as we drink our 
coffee, good, hot, and strong, let us think only 
of the happy times we ’ve had on old T Wharf, 
and we ’ll all be jolly — Bones or no Bones I” 
“All hands up I” shouted Dolbeare, the 
chanty man, as the empty mugs piled high up 
on the table. “Let it be the‘‘Queen of Fishers,’ 
an’ let ev’rybody sing. Come, now; all to- 
gether:” 

“There ’s no craft afloat can beat her 
As the home port draweth near; 

There ’s a cheering crowd to greet her 
As she comes up to the pier; 

147 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


And when shades of night are coming, 

All the fishers think of sport, 

For they know things just go humming 
When the Fiji is in port! 

When the Fiji is in port, lads. 

When the Fiji is in port! 

It is then things just go humming. 

When the Fiji is in port! 

^‘When they put the dories on her. 

For the Banks or for the Isles, 

Old Dame Fortune beams upon her 
With the very sweetest smiles; 

And no matter what her catch is, 

’T is for all a goodly share. 

For she ’s loaded to the hatches 
With a quickly taken fare; 

With a quickly taken fare, lads! 

With a quickly taken fare. 

She comes loaded to the hatches 
With a quickly taken fare! 

“Out for mack’rel, she ^s oft found them 
First of all the hustling fleet; 

And the way her seine goes round them. 
There ^s no other boat can beat ! 

Under water is her railing. 

As she reels the home miles off; 

She *s the ablest craft that ’s sailing 
In and out of old ‘T’ wharf. 

148 


A FO’C’STLE NIGHT 


In and out of old ‘T’ wharf, lads. 

In and out of old ‘T’ wharf; 

Crown the Fiji queen of fishers 
In and out of old ‘T’ wharf.** 

Out into the night and far over the same 
harbor where the Mayflower rode at anchor 
when, in her cabin, the Pilgrims signed the 
compact, the spirit of which has made America 
the greatest of nations, went the song with all 
the mighty fervor of near a hundred hardy, 
happy men; yet within that throng none — no, 
not one — so supremely happy as the boy. Runt. 


\ 


149 


CHAPTER XV 


An Adventure 

“Ding, ding, ding!” 

Three bells of the morning watch. 

Despite the lateness of their turning in the 
previous night, simultaneously the boys tumbled 
from their bunks. 

“Hello, chum!” Runt called, eagerly; “I 
did n’t know you were awake 1 I planned to 
be first on deck; yes, and I will be!” he sud- 
denly exclaimed, snatching his clothes from a 
chest and dashing off. 

As if he had divined his friend’s intention, 
Charlie at the same moment grabbed his be- 
longings and gave chase. 

“Score Estey — ha, ha, ha !” Runt shouted, 
as he tossed his apparel upon the deck. “Gee, 
whiz; is n’t this fine! Say, Charlie,” he added, 
after filling his lungs to the utmost with the 
keen morning air; “upon my word, I ’ve a no- 
tion to become a sailor; I have, honest!” 

He burst into song: 

150 


AN ADVENTURE 


“A life on the ocean wave, 

A home on the rolling deep, 

Where the scattered waters rave. 

And the winds their revels keep. 

Like an eagle, caged, I pine 

On the dull, unchanging shore; 

O, give me the flashing brine. 

The spray and the tempest’s roar!” 

Charlie had quickly joined in, and their rich 
young voices sent the stirring melody far out 
over the bay. 

“May the Lord bless you, lads!” shouted 
Skipper Estey, with great depth of feeling, as 
he rushed on deck, bearing a boot In each hand. 
“Ah, but that ’s the song to stir old blood: ‘A 
life on the ocean wave!’ Well, lads, you can 
have it, and welcome, both of you ! The 
youngster Is coming pretty fast, eh. Squid?” 
he asked, laughing uproariously. “At this rate. 
Runt, before half your vacation is gone you ’ll 
be an A. B. sure! Ho, ho, ho, ho!” 

“Same here. Captain,” said Charlie, heart- 
ily; “you can’t laugh me out of It, either. The 
stories you tell, the songs and stories last night 
— In fact everything about the trip fairly thrills 
me and decides me more and more to be a 
sailor!” 

“I, too!” Runt declared, with energy. 

151 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


“Why, father, this is glorious. Just glorious I 
I feel almost as if I were an entirely new boy I’* 

A thrill of joy went through every fiber of 
the skipper’s being. 

“Thank heaven,” he murmured, happily, 
“I have not been hoping against hope these long 
years in vain, it seems; no, not in vain I” And 
he was about to grip the boy’s hand, when a 
form came between them and the cook asked, 
anxiously, “Be there any white caps showin’, 
Massa?” 

“You lubberly, loafing, ebony-black seventh 
son of a seventh son, get out of here!” roared 
the disappointed skipper. “Get into the galley, 
where you belong, or, so help me, I ’ll toss you 
overboard!” 

“Breakfus’ am ready, sah!” came the shout, 
as Erastus hurled himself down the companion- 
way, closely followed by the skipper’s huge red 
Jacks, each of which, to the delight of the boys, 
missed the mark. 

To stem the tide of abuse, Charlie said, 
laughingly, “There are a few white caps; are 
they the sign of anything?” 

The skipper glanced seaward. “O, I pre- 
sume the fellow would ring in on us one of his 
prophecies,” he said, depreciatingly. “A great 
prophet is the ‘doctor,’ as we call Rastus; but, 
152 


AN ADVENTURE 


confound him, it is bad weather he ’s alius look- 
ing after, alius I” 

“Will he hit it this time, father?” Runt 
asked. 

“O, we ’ll have some weather, I guess,” 
was the light reply. 

“Will it spoil our program?” the boys 
asked, eagerly. 

“Well, you’re neither salt nor sugar; so 
won’t melt,” the skipper answered, laughingly; 
“but come, boys, let ’s breakfast, and then we 
each go our way. There ’s no bait here, but 
they ’re getting mack’rel off No Man’s Land, 
and I want my share I 

“Yes, it ’s a good program,” he added, on 
seating himself at the table. “A tramp along 
the back shore to Chatham, taking in the sights 
of each town, will be simply great. I like that 
whole-souled, weather-beaten, old patriarch 
that you picked up first rate, and your day 
ashore with him will do you both good; then 
down along this mighty arm of shore to the 
very elbow of it; and then Squid, here, shall 
have mack’relling to start in on, instead of 
trawling, for the beauties are staying up north 
late this year, probably to make up for coming 
so pesky late last spring. You see, lad, it ’s 
easy to shift from being a banker to a seiner — 

153 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


off go the tubs, dories, and trawls; inboard 
comes the seineboat and the seines; then up 
anchor, and away after them! It’s mack’rel 
this week for the grand wind-up, mebbe, and 
then we ’ll be on the Grand Banks with 
you.” 

He told Gene to be ready to take the boys 
ashore; but when, later, a dory went over the 
side, and they leaped into it, seized by a sud- 
den impulse, he followed them, calling back to 
Gene : “Get up the anchor, lad, so ’s to up 
sail the minute I get back! Now row hard, 
lads,” he continued, as he seated himself in the 
stern; and as the boys did row hard he was 
the first to break the silence: 

“Look over Wood End way, and see the 
warships coming in, two of them. One looks 
like the Iowa!* 

“Boom!” 

“Ha, ha ! Hear that little gunboat banging 
away its salute ! No doubt the boy behind the 
gun is trying hard to fancy it ’s the real thing 
in war. Many of the fleet is to assemble here 
soon for some new maneuvers. Heigh-ho, 
things change even here, lads, and before long, 
no doubt, this old harbor will lose the Grand 
Banks dory, the last vestige of its palmy days, 
and all of the fishermen will be hustling around 

154 


AN ADVENTURE 


to the grounds in launches! Gracious! watch 
them, will you! Yes, for a fact, things do 
change I 

“Steady, lads! Fend off from the wharf, 
there. Runt! Ship oars! Away you go, lads, 
and may it be a happy outing. So long!” 

Seating himself amidships, the skipper 
shoved off from the landing, placed the oars, 
and with a short, powerful stroke he sent the 
boat speeding back to the Fiji, 

“Gee, whiz, what a stroke !” exclaimed 
Charlie, admiringly. “And say. Runt, look 
over on that wharf — a lot of boys fishing. 
Let ’s go see what they get, will you?” 

“Shure, chum; then we ’ll take in the sights 
and hunt up friend Ellis.” 

“He’s right here! Haw-haw-haw!” came 
in hearty tones as a hand came down heavily 
upon Runt’s shoulder. “Put her there, my boy; 
and here ’s one for you, Charlie!” 

“Why, Mr. Ellis!” exclaimed Runt, as each 
boy grasped the hand extended him by the ven- 
erable old salt, “meeting you here is a big sur- 
prise, sure thing.” 

“Well, boys, I just could n’t wait for you 
to hunt me up, that ’s all ; but what ’s first on 
your program?” 

“We ’ll trudge about the old town to see 

155 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


the sights, I guess. Will it pay us, do you 
think?” Runt asked, smiling. 

“Pay I Why, sartin it will. Our monument 
alone will do that!” came the hearty response. 
“Then this is the neatest, nattiest, quaintest, 
and most picturesque place in the whole world I 
Come on, boys; with no objection, the old man 
will take you in tow a spell and show you a 
few things. I know the place from the tip end 
at Long Point clear back to Truro; and bless 
me, T ’d go over each foot of it with you but 
for my j’ints. Folks call it rheumatism; but 
that be hanged. It ’s old age, that *s what it 
is!” he declared, rather savagely, as he leaned 
forward and vigorously rubbed a knee. 

“How old are you, uncle?” Runt asked, se- 
riously, although it was hard for him to repress 
a smile because of the quaint drollery of the 
native. 

“How old was Ann?” the fisherman re- 
sponded, as he nudged Charlie. “So I am your 
‘uncle,’ eh? That’s good; thank you! I like 
the ring in that word first rate; so stick to it, 
won’t you? Well, nevye, how old was Ann? 
Just you tell me that, and then a wee bit of 
headwork will tell you which shackle in the 
windlass will come next. Haw-haw-haw I It ’s 
old age, all right. But say, my hearties,” he 
156 



THE MONUMENT 




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AN ADVENTURE 


continued, as he left the pier, “let ’s come up 
on Town Hill first, will you? The hill is ninety 
feet high, you know, and on top there, you see, 
is our Pilgrims’ Memorial monument, two hun- 
dred and forty-five feet high. Such a view I 
The whole cape, the bay, the ocean, and — ” 

“How about the joints. Uncle?” Runt 
asked. 

“The j’ints will be all right, nevye, all right, 
thank you ! Leastwise I ’d go up with you if 
I had to walk backwards all the way; so fall 
in, boys.” 

“Say, Uncle, do you know what Bostonians 
do for rheumatism?” Charlie asked, dryly, as 
slowly they climbed the long, winding path to 
the top of the hill. 

“No; what?” 

“They grin and bear it!” laughed Charlie. 

“Or bear it and grin,” Runt added. “Either 
way works well. Uncle.” 

“Bear it and grin, eh?” the captain ejacu- 
lated. “Well, I guess not, nevye; I guess not! 
I ’ll bear it, all right, because I ’ve got to ; but 
I vum I won’t grin ! Aha, on top at last ! 
Look about now; even from here, isn’t this 
just grand?” 

Then came the climb up the stairway within 
the monument, and the ejaculation of the old 

157 


ON AND OFF SHORE 

salt, “Is n’t this the best view that could 
ever be?” 

The boys thought it was, indeed; so grand 
was it in fact, and so hugely did they enjoy 
themselves that not until after the noon-hour, 
when sharp pangs of hunger seized them, did 
they think to descend in order to accompany 
their host to his home for dinner. 

They had hardly reached the main street, 
however, when they saw a man rush from a 
hotel and call through a huge megaphone: 
“BlackfishI Blackfish! Truro telephohes for 
all hands!” 

“Howling winds I Come along, boys ; come 
along!” the old man shouted, excitedly, as with 
wonderful alacrity he started for the shore. 

“What is it?” asked Runt, as the boys ran 
beside him. 

“Blackfish! Whales!” came the panting 
answer. “We’re going after — my boat! 
Thank goodness, there ’s oars in it. Here — 
we are — pile in — boys — lively ! You row now ; 
I ’ll take hold later.” 

Men and boys were running helter-skelter 
under the row of buildings along the shore, 
each seemingly bent on giving orders to some 
one else, but soon “the fleet” was off and racing 
toward the adjacent town. 

158 


AN ADVENTURE 


After again getting his “wind” the captain, 
who was seated in the stern, told the boys that it 
was true that on the previous day a pod or 
herd of these sea animals had been reported 
as sighted off Wellfleet, the town next below 
Truro; but the report had been discredited, as 
many a year had passed since blackfish had 
made Provincetown harbor their feeding 
ground. The rumor was that a Truro weir 
boat had returned hastily from a homing trip 
and reported coming in direct contact with a 
mighty herd playfully rolling and tossing on the 
surface. They had probably been again 
sighted; so the great news was being telephoned 
everywhere. He said that the whales were a 
source of much revenue, the head oil alone be- 
ing worth ten dollars a gallon, and ended by 
calling happily, “That’s well worth having; 
is n’t it, boys?” 

“You ’re right, Uncle,” Runt responded, 
warmly. 

“Then it’ s worth going after, and when 
you go after anything, keep after it till you 
get it I So, then, pull away, my hearties — pull I 
O, but this is a race — the whole fleet is in it, 
and best of all, the whole bunch of those new- 
fangled gasolene affairs is off on the fishing 
grounds I Haw-haw-haw !” 

159 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


To Runt and Charlie, as they glanced about, 
it was indeed a pretty race ; almost everything 
propelled by muscle and oars being entered: 
dories, skiffs; row, seine, and weir boats; yawls, 
and even the ancient whale boat. 

“How many do you think are in this race, 
Runt?” Charlie asked. 

“Nigh a hundred, at a guess,” was the re- 

ply. 

“Sure thing! That many at least.” 

One hundred boats, all humming across the 
bay I 

“Stern, all!” roared Captain Ellis. 

Quickly the boys backed water. 

The foremost boat had reached the weirs, 
and the Truro boats were seen coming swiftly 
toward them. What did it mean? 

Then came the shout that the pod had taken 
themselves farther seaward. 

“After them, my hearties; after them!” 
Captain Ellis yelled, in the intensity of his ex- 
citement. “Gad, but you did that fine!” he 
added, as the boat turned quickly and the boys 
speeded it after their quarry. “Bless my soul, 
but you two are as eager as a pack of hounds 
in a chase! Gad, but this is racing!” 

On, on they raced, the former leaders 
again going to the front; Runt and Charlie al- 
i6o 


AN ADVENTURE 


ways holding their boat among the foremost. 
On, on, and yet no one had sighted “white- 
water,” and all were now skirting Long Point’s 
interposing arm. 

“Where will it end?” called Charlie. 

Runt turned his head to give back an an- 
swer, and his heart fairly stood still. 

Was he right? 

There, a mile ahead, perhaps, he had seen 
rising what seemed to him but a jet of vapor. 
A steady, searching glance, and again he saw it. 
From early boyhood he had heard tell of that 
long “spout.” He knew now there could be 
no mistake, and then, with his whole heart and 
soul in it, there came a loud, long, joyous shout, 
“There she blows!” 

A great cheer went up from the surrounding 
boats, and, leaning forward, the old captain 
gripped Runt’s hand, exclaiming: 

“Gad, nevye — but you did it well! No 
lynx-eyed vet’ran aloft could beat that! 
There ’s whaling blood in you somewhere. 
Haw-haw-haw !” 

There was a hasty consultation between the 
leaders, and a method whereby they might se- 
cure the whole herd was agreed upon. The 
boats were to pass through or around the herd 
in order to get in front of it; they were then 
i6l 


ON AND OFF SHORE 

to turn about suddenly, shout in unison, splash 
the water, and pound their oars hard upon the 
boat; in fact, do anything and all things possible 
to scare the pilot, when, it was hoped, the 
herd would turn about and, in their terror and 
confusion, go pellmell upon the beach, just as 
on those other memorable occasions now so 
long, long ago! 

Such was the program ! 

The wind had gone down, and the sea was 
almost calm. 

Again the race was on! 

“How’s this. Runt?” called Charlie. 

“Fine !” went back the answer. “I ’m some 
tired and sore. Squid, boy, but I would n’t have 
missed this for anything! What do they look 
like to you?” 

“Big, black pots turned bottom up.” 

Slowly the scores of round, black objects 
ahead assumed another shape, as the long, glis- 
tening bodies were seen, and the pursuers 
gained steadily upon the unsuspecting creatures. 

“I say. Runt—” 

“Hist, boys,” broke in the old whaler; 
“keep quiet now, for we ’re in among them. 
We’ll let Bedlam loose soon; then make all 
the noise you can ; for, remember, this kind are 
awfully timid critters — awfully timid!” 

162 


AN ADVENTURE 


Quietly, swiftly the fleet wended its way 
among their intended victims, yet the leader 
was still far ahead, seemingly the largest one 
in the pod. Everything depended upon at once 
heading off that monster pilot! The word 
passed along the line, and with renewed zeal 
the boats shot forward. 

“Where are we. Uncle?” 

“Off the Race, nevye — Race Point, you 
know, near Helltown, our regular fishing 
grounds. Bless my soul, boys, we ’re actu’ly 
leading the critters, I vum I They ’re ours 1 
They ’re ours I Hooroo 1 They ’re ours now, 
sure I” 

“Say, Runt, look over the starboard bow; 
there ’s a lot more warships coming in. Gosh, 
but they look fine!” 

“Boom! Boom” 

The warships in the harbor began saluting 
their incoming sisters. 

“Boom Boom! Boom” came in response. 

“Howling winds; look, will you!” roared 
the frenzied captain. “Look! Look! It’s 
a panic — a stampede — those blamed cannon 
shots have scared the critters out to sea ! It ’s 
all up, nevye ; the chase is ended, and it ’s a 
ten-mile row back to town!” 


CHAPTER XVI 


Leaves from Cap’n Dein’s Log 

“Drop anchor, boys; here ’s our haven.” 

“Thank goodness, Uncle I” Runt exclaimed, 
as he crossed the old man’s threshold. “In all 
my life I never was so tired!” 

“Same here,” declared Charlie. “It was a 
fearful long row, after the disappointment. 
Gee, whiz, how my back and arms ache I Just 
look at my blistered hands; but worse than all, 
I ’m hungry!” 

“Haw, haw, haw, haw,” roared Captain 
Ellis, “if that ain’t a hint, then I do n’t know 
one! Howsoever it’ll make me move faster; 
so it’s all right. Haw-haw-haw!” 

“What is this. Uncle — wonderland or a 
museum?” Runt asked, his face aglow, as at 
one sweeping glance he took in the uniqueness 
of the living-room. Shelf upon shelf laden 
with bric-a-brac, fishing gear, and curios from 
many lands, with an endless variety of clocks 
hanging on each wall, while the dishes on the 
164 


LEAVES FROM CAP’N DAN’S LOG 


table, and even the unmatched chairs, all be- 
spoke antiquity. 

The old man hugely enjoyed Runt’s aston- 
ishment. “Sit down, boys,” he said, hospitably. 
“It ’s only a few relics, nevye,” he added, as he 
prepared to start a fire in the little cook-stove. 
“You see, I ’ve traveled about a bit in my time, 
an’ I alius had an eye open for odds and ends; 
an’ now there ’s the wrecks along the back 
shore, an’ from each one of ’em there ’s alius 
something, you know. 

“I ’ve come honestly by all that I ’ve got 
here, boys, barring one thing — a watch. I ’ll 
show you that bime-by, and tell you about it.” 

“Sure, Uncle,” Runt said, enthusiastically, 
“and we ’ll want the history of some of these 
other things, eh, chum? My, gracious!” he 
exclaimed, as, forgetful of his great fatigue, 
he crossed the room at a bound. “Where did 
you get such a checker-board as this ? Look at 
it, chum ; the white squares ivory and the black 
mahogany 1 Where did you get it. Uncle ?” 

' “That board,” said the old man, highly 
pleased at Runt’s enthusiasm, “came off the 
British ship Jason, wrecked below here, and, 
nevye, I ’ve been told that once it belonged to a 
king of England. Do you know the game, 
nevye?” 


165 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


“A little/’ Runt said, delightedly. “Get 
the men, will you? and chum and I will have 
a game while you ’re getting supper.” 

“And talking,” the captain added, dryly, as 
he handed Runt the box of checkers. “I love 
talking — ^yes — an’ I love checkers, too. Lin — 
my boy, Lincoln, you know — and me used to 
play about ev’ry winter ev’ning; he ’s great at 
the game. He went to Boston to work when 
he was only nineteen, and an able lad he was, 
too; clean and bright as a new dishpan, and 
so keen at checkers that many an older one lost 
to him. He moves carefully; fights for all 
that’s his; takes the sting of defeat manfully, 
and when he wins, does n’t crow over the loser. 

“You see, nevye, Lin learned from older 
heads, and that ’s the way for a boy to do, 
even on the checker-board of life; for life, I 
take it, is just like a great game of checkers. 
Tell the older man your ambitions, he ’s played 
the game, and he ’ll put you on the right 
squares, so that, with courage and care on your 
part, you ’ll reach the king row. Then some 
sand, with good, honest fighting and no foolish 
moves, and success is yours. See?” 

“Uncle, you should go on the platform as 
a lecturer; truly, you should,” Runt declared, 
warmly. “But it ’s natural you should believe 
i66 


LEAVES FROM CAPN DAN’S LOG 


in sand; you ’ve so much of it here,” he added, 
laughingly. 

“You ’re both laughing at me, I see.” the 
Captain said, quietly; “but just the same, I ’m 
right. This stuff that blows around here is n’t 
the only kind of sand there is, not by a good 
deal; for instance, when I say a boy has sand, 
I mean he ’s got just such a strong, fearless 
grip on his courage that it keeps him fighting 
hard, no matter how black the game looks 
ag’in’ him. The sand I mean is a never-dying 
pluck. How’s that, nevye?” 

“Good; I like every word of it. It rings 
true; does n’t it, chum? So, Uncle, you believe 
in the boy who fights, do you?” 

“Ev’ry time,” said the old man, emphatic- 
ally. “Give me the boy who fights, says I ; for 
fighting shows him his prowess; it helps him 
find his place in the world, and it helps him 
keep it, and by keeping what he ’s fought to 
win, eventually he wins out in life.” 

As Runt took up a beautiful meerschaum 
pipe near to him, he called, admiringly, “I say. 
Uncle, is this your own pipe?” 

“No, no, nevye; that ’s just one of the pick- 
ups, you know. I have n’t any pipe, for there 
has n’t been a smoke-up for Dan Ellis for many 
a long year; nor liquor, either,” the old man 
declared. 167 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


‘‘Then things are different now from what 
they have been, eh, Uncle?” Runt asked, as he 
noted how the whole manner of his host had 
changed. 

“Aye, right you are!” was the decisive an- 
swer. “Time was nevye when I paced the quar- 
terdeck regUar. Then things went wrong, and 
I began going on tares. I used to let up once 
in a while — reformed, some folks called it — 
but it never took till the last time. But it took 
then for keeps!” he ended with a chuckle. 

“Is it a story?” Runt asked, eagerly. 

“It might be one if I told it, you know. 
Haw, haw!” laughed the old man, heartily. 
“D’ ye see the p’int nevye? But I say, if I tell 
it, will each of you top off with half a dozen 
games of checkers with me?” 

“I will,” came simultaneously from the 
two boys. 

“Well, then, line up to the table and send 
up your plates for a cargo of cod, and eat 
slowly till pie time, which comes with the coffee. 
It ’s a leaf or two out of my own life log-book, 
boys, and it all came about through a trip to the 
Georges after the same kind of fish we are 
eating — and do n’t you ever say I ’m not a 
good cook, will you, boys?” 


LEAVES FROM CAP’N DAN’S LOG 


“Hardly,” was Runt’s response. “I was 
just thinking, Uncle, that I ’d become a regu- 
lar patron of your Boston eating-house.” 

“Same here,” declared Charlie. “You can 
cook all right, Captain.” 

“Thank you both; and remember, boys, the 
more you eat, the more you please me; this is 
Provincetown, you know, and that means hos- 
pitality; see? Hello, just hear it rain! This 
storm has been in my j’ints all day, and I ’ll 
be glad when it ’s over. This old craft of ours 
will roll around a bit if the wind blows hard; 
but do n’t you worry, for we ’re in a snug 
harbor. 

“Now for the story. I tell you there ’s lots 
of work to be done before the cod gets to where 
you see it hereabouts all spread out on the 
flakes, drying; and don’t you forget it. Next 
to oysters, the cod is the most important fishing 
industry in this country. They are ev’rywhere 
north of the Jersey coast, clear to the pole, I 
take it. But on Georges Banks, south of here, 
where day in and day out the tide races round 
and round like the merry-go-rounds at a circus, 
and clear up to the Grand Banks of New 
Foundland, they swarm in billions! That’s 
where the men go after them, and ten months 
169 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


of each year it ’s a case of matching their wits 
ag’in’ the storm fiend of the old Atlantic Ocean 
— but that ’s nothing to do with my story. 

“I came from good old Nantucket stock, 
boys, and I can’t remember the time when I 
was n’t either in or on the water. As a boy 
I looked upon the sea as the only means of 
occupation within my reach, and to me, whose 
only playground was those storm-beaten shores, 
there was no more danger or hardship at sea 
than on the wind-swept sand dunes. Why, I ’m 
convinced that I must have known a thing or 
two about sailing vessels before I ’d changed 
from reefed knickerbockers into long ones, and 
so, about the time I was your age, I was boat- 
steerer on my second whaling trip; but we 
were n’t having any luck, so I came up the cape 
to Provincetown and got to fishing, and, having 
acquired the necessary knowledge, I became a 
sea captain and was doing well enough, when 
some Boston ship owners got me and gave me 
the best little merchantman that ever passed 
Minot’s light. Ah, boys, but I was a proud 
man, then I Aye, and I am yet a proud one, 
if it comes to that, even if later I was only a 
sea cook, for during all my years at skipperage, 
both in sail and steam, I never had a wreck 
or serious mishap, or never once was a ship 
170 


LEAVES FROM CAP’N DAN^S LOG 


of mine towed into port ! I Ve been in tight 
holes scores of times. I ’ve had bad crews and 
indifferent boats, but it was alius the same: I 
went into port unaided, and Old Glory was 
alius at the peak I” 

“Uncle, you were one of the luckiest skip- 
pers afloat,” Runt declared, warmly. 

“Luck?” exclaimed the old man, scornfully. 
“Huh I There was no luck about it. I was 
alius extremely keerful, and that was my ‘luck I’ 
Odd, but that brings us right back to checkers. 
If you want to win, you Ve got to keep in mind 
that there ’s another skipper bearing down on 
you, all sail set. Port or starboard, which way 
he ’ll jam the wheel you don’t know; so alius 
you must be extremely keerful. 

“Well, in sixty-three, right in the heyday of 
my glory, as they say, I got married. It was 
while I was ashore nursing an injury. Some 
say I was hurt while running the blockade down 
South, and mebbe I was. If I was, I made up 
for it by marrying a motherless little gal who 
had just lost her father, too, when he was 
fighting under Hooker at Gettysburg. 

“On Sunday, April ninth, sixty-five, Lee sur- 
rendered. I ’ll never forget that date, boys, for 
that morning a little gal came into our cot right 
down here on the back road. For a couple more 
171 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


years I continued being the happiest man God 
ever let sail the seas. Then things changed. 
My bullet-wound suddenly opened, and to save 
my leg from being cut off I slipped into a sick 
bay at Philadelphy, sending my ship home in 
charge of the mate; but in a big storm off the 
Jersey coast she foundered, and all on board 
went with her. I was n’t the least bit surprised 
when I heard of it, months afterwards, for she 
was an ugly boat, and my wonder uster be 
how she stood the lighter storms of winter, let 
alone the real ones. 

“As no one interested in her, excepting the 
crew, knew I was n’t aboard when she foun- 
dered, natur’ly those that were interested 
thought Cap’n Ellis was also lost, while I, be- 
ing as I was a pretty sick man, knew nothing 
about this for nigh a year afterwards, when I 
got home, only to learn that not alone had 
my baby gal died, but that, believing me lost, 
as reported, my little wife had sold off ev’ry- 
thing and had gone off somewhere to work for 
a living; and next folks here knew, her body 
came back, and she was buried down in the old 
graveyard. 

“Well, boys, this double dose actu’ly drove 
me to drink, and then it was I took to whaling 
again for the sake of the excitement. But 
172 


LEAVES FROM CAP^N DAN’S LOG 


even that didn’t make me forget my double 
loss, and so one after t’ other I went after 
herring at Labrador, halibut off the west coast 
of Greenland, cod on the Banks, and mack’rel 
ev’rywhere in the sea north of Cape May. 

“I made some pretty bad moves, and alius 
played a poor game, going fast from bad to 
worse — reforming and getting away on some 
fishing trip, only to put up the same wretched 
game again once I ’d got ashore, and then I ’d 
reform again. 

“Well, during one of my reforming spells 
I married another little woman, never forget- 
ting my first wife, mind you, but happy just 
the same because another woman had faith in 
me, see? 

“When I took that trip I was thirty-six 
years old. I ’d been on off-shore trips many 
times when I was a boy; in the days when they 
went out in little old sixty-tonners, nine men 
aboard each, and something like three hundred 
vessels lying there together, and us fishing from 
the decks. But now it was hand-lining from a 
dory, one man in each; for this allowed a 
greater surface to be fished over, and we could 
get our fare quicker.” 

“In these days three-fourths of the Bankers 
and Georgesmen are trawlers, and they send 

173 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


out six or eight dories, with two men in each, 
to tend trawls. There are from five hundred 
to seven hundred hooks on a line, each a fathom 
apart. A fisherman takes up his line at the 
buoy, passes it over the dory, removes the cod, 
and forever ends its flapping by hitting it on 
the head; then he rebaits the hook, and keeps 
on pulling in on one side and paying out on 
t’ other, till he reaches the farther buoy, when 
gener’ly his bait tub is empty and the dory is 
loaded with fish. Howsoever, it ’s all a grand 
lottery; some come back with measly small 
fares, others have a star ketch. Some chaps 
croak about luck; but it isn’t luck, boys — it’s 
hard work; work and foresight in the shape 
of the care a man takes in placing his bait and 
in setting his trawls.” 

“Herring is the bait mostly; they get them 
up that way, too. But, bless you, fishermen 
from ev’rywhere come right here for bait, for 
gener’ly there ’s an abundance of squid at Prov- 
incetown, while below here, off Monomy, 
there ’s porgies a-plenty. It was to get bait 
that the Fiji ran in here yesterday, you know. 

“I was aboard the Yolande that trip, under 
ol’ Cap’n Darrell. Ev’rything went our way 
the first two days off the Banks, and we ’d got 
mor’n half a fare; then we had a spell of 

174 


LEAVES FROM CAPN DAN’S LOG 


weather when we couldn’t haul the gear; so 
we went to hand-lining over the side, and our 
ketch was jest enough to keep the dressing gang 
from gettin’ drowsy. Then my dory-mate — 
but pass along the mugs, boys,” the captain ex- 
claimed, as he reached back and took the huge 
coffee pot from the stove. “Help yourselves 
to pie, and eat all you can while I talk. Gosh ! 
Hear it storming I Where was I, anyway? 
O, yes, I said my dory-mate took sick. Well, 
he did ; and the old man did n’t want me to go 
alone ; but, bless your heart, had n’t I done it 
hundreds of times when hand-lining? Of 
course I had, and — well, mine was number six; 
so was the first dory dropped over ; and the first 
twice I manned it alone, all went well, but the 
third time it was different 1” 


175 


CHAPTER XVII 


An Interruption 

“It ’s enthusing work, boys, tossing about 
way out on the open in a little dory. You can’t 
help enthusing. Afar off, say a mile and a half 
away, the old ship is hove to and rides at 
anchor — that ’s inspiring. Nearer, and about 
you, the mates in other dories are at it hard 
and strong in an endeavor to bring home the 
biggest ketch. To us the old ship is home! 

“‘Ahoy, there, Dan!’ 

“I looked up as a mate called to me from 
nigh his farthermost buoy. 

“ ‘Hello!’ said I. 

“ ‘Want any help? Fog an’ wind are 
cornin’ fast, ain’t they?’ 

“Looking around for the first time, I noted 
it was getting pretty thick; so I called back: 
‘Aye, right. Bill. I ’ll keep my weather-eye 
open, thank you ! No ; I do n’t want any help,’ 
said I, ‘I ’m nigh the end of my rope, and I 
know the course — one p’int off the wind. 

176 


AN INTERRUPTION 


“So Bill and his mate rowed home; the 
others had gone long before, perhaps; I never 
noticed. 

“Thicker came the fog, but I had the bear- 
ings; so I kept at work till I got to my buoy, 
and a fine lot of cod I had. They were big 
beauties, piled high fore and aft and ev’ry- 
where else. I knew I had more than Bill was 
taking home, and he was a good fisher, all right. 

“My last hook was baited and went to the 
bottom; then I looked at the weather again. 
‘This is nasty, for a fact,’ said I, and I took 
up my oars, and, kicking a place amidships 
among the fish for my feet, put her nose just 
a little off the wind and went into it hard for 
home! And boys, as I rowed, one old song 
kept buzzing in my ears, ‘There ’s no place like 
home,’ and just then home to me was the 
fo’c’stle of the Yolande. But I never got there I 
Wind is an unsartin’ thing to put faith in. Sud- 
denly I was getting it square astern, and then 
— where was I ? 

“I sat stock still! There wa’ n’t any use 
rowing when I ’d as likely be pulling toward 
Europe as toward the Yolande; so I just sot 
still and listened! 

“In those days it was a big tin horn we 
listened for, and the old man’s blasts, as he 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


called us home, were alius long, sharp, hard, 
and shrill, God bless him I I say that, boys, 
because Cap’n Darrell was like a father to his 
men. Aye, and just like a father he ’d call us 
when the fog was shutting in. There he ’d 
stand, leaning far out over the quarter, and 
blowing till we ’d think either his lungs or the 
horn would burst; and as I sat out there in that 
dory I knew he was blowing for all he was 
worth; and I knew he was calling me home! 
You see my faith in him was a matter of ex- 
periences, for I ’d often been aboard when 
others were ketched. 

“Howsoever, not a sound did I hear until 
I got the roaring of an oncoming gale. That ’s 
how they come, off the Banks, boys, fast and 
furious! Down came the rain in torrents, and 
as the dory drove on fiercely before the wind, 
you may believe Dan Ellis had both hands full 
keeping her athwart the waves. 

“Aye, that was a storm ! I knew full well 
that for safety the Yolande had pulled up an- 
chor and, close-reefed, was scudding before it 
for dear life. Naturally I was glum — I was 
lost! 

“If for some years I had never been really 
sober, boys, that minute I certainly was ! 
‘Dan,’ says I, ‘this looks like a lost game! 
178 


AN INTERRUPTION 


Why, man, you can’t even reach the king row I’ 
That made me mad I ‘Who says I can’t?’ says 
I. ‘Haven’t I got a stanch boat? Aye, and 
strong arms and a stout heart? It does look 
black ag’in’ me,’ says I ; ‘but jest the same I ’m 
not dead yet!’ 

“Ev’ry chance I got, I ’d toss out a cod. 
Said I, ‘If the total number divides by three, 
then Dan ’ll win the game. Three means y-e-s, 
and two means n-o.’ So I counted, and there 
were one hundred and sixty-eight — and that 
divided by three ; so for a minute I was a happy 
man. Then all of a sudden I bethought it also 
divided by two, and two meant n-o. 

“Well, boys,” the old man continued, after 
a pause, “I ’ll skip over the three days of tor- 
ture I had. Let them slumber in oblivion like 
the memories of all the bad games I ’ve ever 
played. The thirst was the hard part of it — 
being worse than hunger; for it meant real 
pain. I ’ve told you I had often reformed; so 
I had : first my new wife got me to ; then, again, 
when my baby boy came along; and then, from 
that time on, it was alius a tare and a reform- 
ing; but as I have told you, it never took till 
this last time, when I was away off somewhere 
on the North Atlantic, and alone with God! 
Somehow I got to feeling sartin that from 
179 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


Him alone could come help. Then I reformed. 
I told Him: ‘Honest, if You will only see me 
through, let me see my wife and youngster 
once more, I ’ll reform all over !” 

“Well, boys. He did, and I did! 

“A liner came along, and it did n’t run me 
down, nor pass me by, and a day later I was 
in Halifax, N. S. ; two more, and I was in New 
York City; the next day, home again.” 

“I ’m downright glad you won that game. 
Uncle, but it was a mighty close call,” Runt ex- 
claimed, as he gripped the hand extended by 
the old man. Was that the time you mentioned 
to me yesterday?” 

“No, nevye,” the old salt declared, sadly. 
“On Georges I was n’t nigh being drowned — 
I was near death! The time you say I men- 
tioned yesterday was many years later. I ’d 
got the rheumatis pretty well conquered, then, 
and had been for five years “chef de cook,” as 
they called me on a coastwise steamer, run- 
ning between New York and the Provinces. 

“Her last run was a hard-luck one, sure. 
It began with her crashing into and sinking an- 
other craft. At the time one of her tubes blew 
out, and her engines being useless, and she 
otherwise crippled, there was nothin’ for us 
but drifting; and it all ended with her on Sow 
i8o 


AN INTERRUPTION 


and pig reef, three miles off the Cuttyhunk Life- 
saving Station. 

“Those boys, the Gay Head chaps, some 
volunteers, and a wrecking tug made a big light 
for hours to get us, and finally did; but it was 
only at the last moment, mind, just as she went 
all to pieces, leaving me floundering in the 
waters. 

“Odd enough, boys, speaking of that wreck 
brings me right back to what I spoke of when 
you first came in — the w’atch, which, I said, 
was the only thing I did n’t come honestly by. 

“Well, I Ve said that was a close call, and 
it was. The three of us that managed to get 
aboard the wrecking tug were landed in 
Gotham early next morning. One of the other 
two was some daffy, owing to a bad crack he 
got on his head when tossed upon the rocks. 
The other said he was the injured man’s 
brother, and being a sailor and knowing the 
port, he took us in tow and landed us in a 
room where he said we two could rest while he 
got a doctor to treat his brother. The chap 
came, all right; advised me to take some pills 
to quiet my nerves. They were n’t costing me 
a cent; so I took ’em. 

“Boys, it was an old trick down that v/ay — 
the sick man and myself were drugged — shang- 
i8i 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


haled — slick as could be I Next I know, we 
two were off Hatteras on a steamer bound for 
a fourteen-thousand-mile journey around Cape 
Horn to Seattle. 

“Gad, think of that, will you ! 

“Well, our first stop was at Santa Lucia in 
the Straits of Magellan. Meanwhile I ’d made 
the best of a bad matter, and just obeyed orders 
without a word of discontent. I ’m a great 
hand at tattooing, boys, and that and my knack 
at tinkering of timepieces soon got me into fa- 
vor with the cap’n. When the compass went 
awry, Dan Ellis fixed it; and soon he ’d tinkered 
a bit on all the tickers aboard ship. 

“One day the sick man let fall his watch, 
breaking the crystal, and we two being the 
closest of friends, it was given to me to put on 
a wooden disk. Into my pocket it went. 

“Next day we lay off Santa Lucia, and I was 
one of those let ashore, so I might hunt up 
some things which would come handy to me 
in my tinkering work. Ashore, I suddenly 
had a hankering to get back home, and, 
boys, it was so strong that I hid myself away 
until sartin sure the steamer was miles away 
on her course. 

“I knew, once they ’d hoist anchor and get 
under way, they would n’t be likely to turn 
182 


AN INTERRUPTION 


back, no, not even to ketch Dan Ellis, because 
the Straits are a bad place; three hundred and 
seventy miles long, from three to seventy miles 
wide, and nasty all the way and all the time! 
The tide runs through there at eight knots an 
hour, and that means frequent anchorage. 
Why, boys, the ablest craft afloat won’t get 
through without five or six pauses each trip! 

“Well, I ’d escaped, all right, and was well 
tickled about it until I remembered I was carry- 
ing the watch which belonged to the sick man. 
Then I was glum, for I knew he, poor fellow, 
was having another sorrow added to his full 
cup, because, pasted on the inside of the case, 
is a picture he fairly worshiped. It ’s a woman ; 
I ’ll get it and show it to you now; I want you 
to see it, because she — ” 

Rap ! Rap ! Rap ! 

“Hello! Open the door, nevye. I guess 
it ’s some of the mates dropping in for a game 
or two of checkers. I ’ll show you boys the 
watch later.” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


Joe’s Discovery 

“Heard the news, Joe?” Mr. Bourne asked, 
pleasantly, one rainy day during Runt’s absence 
at home, as he sauntered over to the newly 
inaugurated gentlemen’s furnishings depart- 
ment, the charge of which had been given to 
Joe Powers, whose careless handling of a bit 
of blazing paper had been overlooked by Mr. 
Freeman upon the boy’s assurance that the 
scare he got that day had given him all he 
wanted of his newly formed habit of cigarette 
smoking. 

“No, sir; what is it?” 

“Marvin is coming back again Saturday.” 

“That beats two papers for a cent I” ex- 
claimed Joe, in surprise. “For my part, Mr. 
Bourne, I ’m sorry!” 

“Well, Joe, you ’re not the only one that 
is sorry. I myself am decidedly annoyed; but 
it seems Freeman put his foot into it when he 
promised to help Marvin out of his scrape for 
selling lottery tickets if he ’d sign some paper 
184 


JOE’S DISCOVERY 

stating the fact the tickets were what he ’d had 
stolen from him, and not cold cash. Marvin 
turned on him and put the question point blank, 
‘Will you give me back my old berth at the 
store?’ — and then he kept making hay by ask- 
ing for a short vacation. He got all he asked 
for, it seems, and while we ’re all glad it got 
poor Charlie out of his trouble with a rush, 
we ’ve all of us now got to pay for it. Mar- 
vin ’s a smart salesman, no mistake; earns big 
money on commissions, and all that, because 
he ’s got a peculiar way of his own of getting 
around a customer; but I reckon, Joe, he ’s too 
smart. That’s about the size of it!” 

“You ’re right, Mr. Bourne, and yet, with 
all that smart way of his he never goes ahead 
any, as I see, nor does he ever seem to have 
any money; so what’s the good of his smart- 
ness ? I ’ve often asked myself that very thing. 
What good does it do him?” 

“None at all,” the manager said, with en- 
ergy. “I look at it this way, Joe, smartness 
is all right, of course, but it ’s no earthly use 
to man or boy unless he ’s ambitious. An ax 
with a sharp edge is all right, but it won’t 
cut down a tree. What does the real work 
is the heft of the ax; so, then, as it ’s the head 
of the ax behind the sharp edge that fells the 
i8s 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


tree, it ’s ambition behind smartness that drives 
the ambitious one on and on as he cuts away 
everything before him. How ’s that for 
preaching?” the manager laughed, lightly. “O, 
I ’m just great at it when I once get started ! 
Ha-ha-ha I 

“Well, back comes Marvin, and if I know 
the fellow, he ’ll be more bossy than ever; so 
look out for yourself, Joe; ha-ha!” 

“I will, thank you,” Powers replied, grimly, 
“for I know his return will make it bad all 
around, especially for Charlie, who, of course, 
feels mighty sore over the disgrace Marvin 
thrust upon him, and as for Estey, I tell you, 
Mr. Bourne — well, you recall the time Marvin 
blustered the boy a little, the very first day 
Estey worked here, I think it was?” 

“Indeed I do, Joe. It was the only time 
any boy ever walked all over Walter Marvin, 
and it did me good to see it! Ha-ha-ha!” 

“Yes, sir; but did you notice how frightened 
Marvin looked; and Estey only a boy, too? 
I never could fathom that at all. There was 
something back of it, sure ! Why, he paid me 
five dollars just to find out where Runt lived. 
Then he wanted me to do a lot of prying into 
Estey’s back life, where he was born, who 
were his parents, and a lot just such; but I ’m 
i86 


JOE’S DISCOVERY 

no detective — and do you know, Mr. Bourne, 
I ’ve always felt that Marvin moved into that 
Harrison Avenue boarding-house just to in 
some way or other do Runt Estey some in- 
. jury?” 

“You ’re not the only one that has said that, 
Joe. Not by a long shot! Well, he ’s coming 
back; so we ’ve got to put up with it, that ’s all, 
and I say — ” 

“Good morning, gentlemen I My card, 
please. You see I represent the largest whole- 
sale house in the country. Gents’ furnishings 
our specialty. Let me show you our — ” 

“Hold on,” said the manager, crisply; 
“you ’ll have to see Mr. Freeman himself. 
He ’s the one does all the buying. Joe, show 
him the office, will you?” 

Mr. Bourne sauntered away, and beckoning 
to the man with the grip, the drummer followed 
young Powers, who, stopping at the bundle 
counter, said, “You wait here, please, and I ’ll 
call Mr. Freeman.” 

The clothier at once heeded the summons. 

“Stay here, Joe,” he said, after greeting the 
drummer; “learn all you can, you know; these 
men are sharp, mighty sharp; the real thing, 
up to date, and six months ahead, almost.” 

The grip was laid upon the counter, and 
187 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


while its owner gave his whole attention to Mr. 
Freeman, Joe scanned him earnestly. 

Finally he walked over to the cashier’s desk 
and said: “Miss Hyde, whom does this New 
Yorker look like ? It beats me ; for I know well 
enough, yet somehow I can not seem to place 
him; can you?” 

Miss Hyde looked closely at the stranger 
a moment. “It ’s no one I know, I ’m sure, Mr. 
Powers.” 

“It is n’t so much his looks as it is manner; 
his quick way of moving, and that little shrug.” 
And with renewed interest he continued to study 
the stranger. 

The drummer was short and thick-set, and 
evidently a man of nervous temperament, for 
he seemed to be in constant motion as he tossed 
his wares about promiscuously, only to seize 
upon them again as, one by pne, he dwelt ear- 
nestly upon their superiority to anything else 
in the market. 

Glib of tongue and affable in manner he 
certainly was, and Joe considered watching 
him a real treat, and yet the study went on — 
“Of whom does the man remind me?” 

An electric light tender came along the main 
aisle, bearing the long step-ladder upon which 
he stood while renewing carbons and cleaning 

i88 


JOE’S DISCOVERY 

the globes. He began working on the light in 
the center of the store, directly in front of the 
bundle counter, just as the drummer, uncon- 
scious of his presence, began deftly restrapping 
his grip. 

“The first Wednesday of each month is my 
Boston day,” he said, in parting; “but this 
time I ’ll run in on my return from down East 
to see how you like the goods; you will get 
them in a few days, all right. Good-day, all, 
and thank you for — ” 

In his quick way he pulled the grip from 
the counter, and as it swung back with great 
force against the step-ladder, a large globe 
came crashing to the floor. 

The New Yorker heard the crash behind 
him, and with the agility of a cat he leaped 
aside and turned quickly. 

“That tells the story,” Joe Powers called, 
eagerly, as he rushed to the cashier’s desk. 
“Did you see him jump and turn, all ready to 
do something? Why, that’s Runt Estey all 
over! Don’t you think I am right?” 

“Yes, you are, Mr. Powers!” exclaimed the 
cashier, now thoroughly interested in Joe’s dis- 
covery. “Why, as he stands there now, his 
whole profile is our Mr. Estey to a Tl” 


189 


CHAPTER XIX 


Off Race Point 

“When you ’re bowed down by sorrow, by grief and 
by woe, 

When there only is trouble in sight; 

Never yield to despair, for away they must go. 

As the daylight dispelleth the night. 

Though the hurricanes howl and the lightnings fly. 
There ’s a rainbow will come, when the storm goes by!” 

Shrill was the voice that echoed and re- 
echoed through Cap’n Dan’s “Havenland.” 

The first words had instantly aroused the 
boys. Intently they listened to the quaint, 
homely philosophy of their venerable host as he 
voiced it in song, and then Runt called to him, 
heartily, “That ’s all right. Uncle ; good for 
you!” Then, turning to his bunkmate, he 
added, quickly, “What say you to a swim, 
chum?” 

In an instant Charlie was on his feet, shout- 
ing, “It ’s another race, old man, and here ’s 
where I win!” 

With Runt in hot pursuit, he went speeding 
190 


OFF RACE POINT 


down the narrow stairway, through the kitchen, 
to the rear door, which he threw open and 
rushed out upon the platform, where suddenly 
he halted. 

With terrific force on came Runt, striking 
his chum squarely between the shoulders, the 
impact hurling him into the seething surf, for 
the full tide was already slapping upon the top 
round of the short ladder used in climbing from 
the beach. 

Unable to save himself. Runt also plunged 
headlong into the sea. 

*‘Haw, haw, haw!” roared the old man. 
“Haw, haw, haw I Say there, boys, you won’t 
have to have those shirts washed for a whole 
week! Haw, haw, haw I” 

“Where’s the beach, anyway?” gasped 
Charlie, as he climbed back on to the platform. 

“O, it ’s here, all right, sure,” the captain 
said, assuringly; “that is, when the tide is out. 
D ’ye see the p’int? Haw-haw-haw!” 

“Do you Provincetown people build your 
houses right over the water?” demanded the 
shivering boy. 

“No, lad, we do n’t; we build on the shore, 
and the water comes under the houses. D’ ye 
see the difference? Haw, haw, haw!” 

It was now daylight, and as Charlie glanced 
191 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


along the row of cottages, ‘way down along,’ 
he had ideas of his own respecting any tech- 
nical difference. 

Runt had ruefully climbed the ladder. 

“If only you two would get your pictures 
taken in those patent bathing suits, I could sell 
a dozen of ’em easy,” the captain exclaimed, 
and his hearty laugh quickly put the young 
guests once more in good humor, and over the 
rail they leaped, and fast and furious was the 
sport. 

“Three bells, and breakfast!” soon shouted 
their host. 

A moment later the boys came prancing into 
the kitchen. 

“Gee, whiz. Uncle, that water was n’t even 
half warm!” Runt exclaimed; “but I feel fine!” 

“So do I,” declared Charlie, as he began 
a brisk rubbing down; “but I say. Runt, there 
are two things I ’ll never forget — first, my 
feeling of horror at seeing the whole ocean 
right at the back door, and then my surprise 
at the sudden plunge you gave me, confound 
you !” 

“Haw, haw, haw!” laughed the captain. 
“You boys ’ll kill me; I know you will. Think 
of our turning in after six bells, two nights 
handrunning! But just the same, lads, I was 
192 


OFF RACE POINT 


glad you held your own at checkers last night, 
and didn’t lose ev’ry game. Some of them 
were good games, too, for my neighbor is a 
hard fighter; haw, haw, haw I 

“After I ’d turned in, nevye, I remembered 
I had n’t shown you that watch yet; but do n’t 
let me forget it, will you ; but just now you two 
have got to hustle if you want to go along with 
old Dan.” 

So really anxious were the boys for a dory 
fishing experience before leaving Provincetown 
that all else was immediately forgotten, and 
with breakfast over they were speedily afloat, 
Charlie pulling port oar and Runt starboard. 

Novel and inspiring was the scene spread 
before them. Afar off on the port beam the 
sun was climbing above the lofty sand dunes, 
while the harbor was full of craft of every de- 
scription, a score of stately warships adding 
much to the beauty of this great marine picture. 
About them, alone in their dories and in pairs, 
the “bobbers” were plying steadily amidships, 
a tireless sea-sawing of their lines as up and 
down, up and down went the squid jiggers; and 
further out the vast weirs, with the weirmen, 
while drawing their traps, were being almost 
mobbed by swarms of fishermen, all clamoring 
for bait fish. 

IS 


193 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


A wonderful scene of animation it made. 

“I ’d hate to be those weirmen,” Runt ex- 
claimed. “Some of those foreigners look really 
angry. What’s the racket, anyway?” 

“It ’s been just so each morning for a week, 
nevye,” the old man began, as, with keen in- 
terest, he also watched the desperate struggle 
for prizes. “The bay is jammed full of cod 
just now, and the dorymen have no trouble 
making good, big hauls, with trawls, whenever 
bait can be obtained. That ’s the trouble — a 
lack of bait. At a drawing the weirmen are 
now getting at most but one or two barrels of 
herring or other bait fishes, and that, nevye, 
ain’t quite enough to supply a one-hundred-bar- 
rel demand. See? Bime-by Conwell will put 
up his ketch at auction, and then there ’ll be 
fun hereabouts.” 

“Will it bring much?” Runt asked. 

“Fifteen dollars a barrel, I take it.” 

“Gosh, at that figure, does the buyer make 
any money fishing?” Charlie asked. 

“My ten-dollar lot Monday has already 
caught cod and haddock that sold for seventy- 
fiye dollars. Is n’t that making money? Haw, 
haw, haw I” 

Chatting thus gaily, still on they went, 
bound for the fishing ground; but it was a long 
194 


OFF RACE POINT 


row, and the sea air acted like magic on their 
appetites; so they were glad when the captain 
called, cheerily: 

“Bank oars, boys; we’ll have a try here. 
We ’re on fish at last, I take it, and no mistake. 
Bear a hand with Charlie, nevye, and heave 
that anchor off the bow. Give her a long line. 
Aha, that ’ll do ; now we ’ll get at my last bucket 
of bait. But fust let ’s all have something to 
eat.” 

The boys feasted ravenously, to the delight 
of the veteran, who said, as the last morsel 
vanished and the empty box went over side: 

“Now, then, I ’ll rig a line for each of you 
to fish with. We ’ll use two hooks to a line. 
Here you are, nevye, and here ’s yours, Charlie. 
Now ‘try your luck,’ as some folks call it. 
Heave ’em over, boys, with the baited hook 
first and then the lead, and see that the snoods 
go down clean, for on that depends whether 
you haul up one or a pair of ’em. When your 
lead strikes, then haul back a little, so your 
hooks will dangle near the bottom. Yes, that ’s 
right; now let ’s hope we ’ll have to work like 
beavers, with the fish hooking themselves the 
minute the leads touch bottom ; haw, haw, haw I 
I ’ve seen it just so many and many a time, 
boys.” 


195 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


“A bitel’’ 

Charlie was first to utter the thrilling words. 

“Pshaw, no,” he added, meekly; “hut I was 
sure I had one.” 

The old man’s hent figure straightened a 
moment, and his wrinkled face took on a quiz- 
zical expression, as he said, slowly: “Charlie, 
there are alius some fish that will nihhle, hut 
will never take in the hait unless it ’s the right 
kind. It ’s just so with people. Some shy up 
and take a nihhle, and then go away disgusted 
because the bait is n’t to their liking. Others 
are greedy, and bite without looking.” 

“Here’s a fish of that kind!” exclaimed 
Runt. “Score Esteyl” he continued, as care- 
fully he drew his catch over the side. 

“Haddock, eh,” said the captain, musingly. 
“Well, over with your line again, nevye, for 
that is n’t so bad; but, hold on — this is better, 
a ten-pound cod, I take it;” and he landed a 
fine fish. “You may ‘score Ellis;’ haw-haw! 
Now, who gets the next?” 

“Hello, Uncle!” Runt called, eagerly. 
“What ’s this little shaver on the port beam, 
all sails set?” 

The captain viewed the yet distant craft. 
“It ’s a lobster carrier. She is — ” 

“Score me,” Charlie broke in, “this time 
196 


OFF RACE POINT 


sure 1” And then, seeing what he had hooked, 
his tone changed suddenly, “Pshaw, it ’s only 
a small one I” 

A twinkle came into the captain’s shrewd 
eyes as he said: “It ’s strange, boys, how eager 
most people are to ketch big fish. They actu’ly 
throw back the little ones ; but an old fisherman 
would n’t do it, for he knows that in the small 
ones you find the sweetest meat. It seems to 
me,” he added, reflectively, as he hooked a 
pollock, “that all mankind is alius hankering 
after fishing of some kind or other. What are 
you after, lad?” 

Quickly taking the old man’s meaning, 
Charlie answered : “Just now I ’m fishing for an 
education, and I ’m going to keep fishing until 
I get it. Fact is. Runt and I are both hot after 
it. We study together almost every night, and. 
Captain, you can believe it ’s good, honest 
study, tool” 

“Hooroo I” the old man ejaculated. “I like 
that. I like that in both of you. Good, honest 
study, eh? Well, boys, no matter where you 
fish, I take it you ’ll win ; for you ’ve found the 
secret of success — good, honest bait and pa- 
tience.” 

“Hurrah! Hurrah! Watch out. Uncle!” 
Runt called, excitedly. “I ’ve hooked some- 
197 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


thing big, sure! Gee, whiz, but it’s heavy! 
Look ! Look I I Ve got him ! I Ve got him !” 

With anxious eyes Charlie looked into the 
clear waters, and his heart beat fast as he heard 
the captain say: 

“H-s-s, h-s-s. Easy, now, nevye — give him 
line ; do n’t hold him too hard, or he ’ll break 
the gear. A forty-pounder, that one, sure !” 

Runt trembled violently in his excitement; 
yet slowly, surely, up came his catch, it ’s tail 
splashing the waters into a foam, in a desperate 
struggle for freedom. 

“I’ve got him! He’s mine, all right!” 
Runt called, joyously, as the head came over the 
gunwale. But just as he was about to end the 
struggle with one stout blow, the hook slipped, 
and it was good-bye, cod ! 

Charlie laughed loudly, in which he was 
joined by the captain, who yet found voice to 
exclaim : 

“Never mind, nevye; there’s more where 
that came from. I ’ve often had fish jump clear 
off the hook like that at just the last minute. 
You shouted too soon, that ’s all; for you never 
have a fish till he ’s landed; haw-haw-haw!” 

“Boat a-ho-o-y!” 

“Hello, here ’s that little smack bearing 
down on us. Ahoy!” Captain Dan responded, 
198 


OFF RACE POINT 


heartily. Then seeing her skipper, he called 
out: “Hello, Jack I How are things on the 
Island?” 

“Monomoy ’s all right, Dan,” came back 
the answer. 

“Monomoy!” exclaimed Runt, eagerly. 
“Is he bound there. Uncle?” 

“Yes, after the lobster ketch.” 

“Would he take us, do you think? I ’d love 
to go.” 

One thought suddenly thrilled the boy. For 
the time being he had seemingly forgotten the 
mystery he would solve regarding the fate of 
his father; now, however, it flashed upon him 
that at Monomoy there might be gathered a lot 
of old seafaring men whom he could talk with; 
so he quickly added, “I have a purpose in want- 
ing to go. I want to — ” 

“Leave your uncle!” broke in the captain; 
yet, again hailing the skipper, he asked: “Will 
you take my nevyes aboard. Jack? They want 
to see the Island.” 

“Sure, if you can catch us, Dan,” came back 
the laughing answer. “We Ve luffed now, you 
see, and we ’re flying some. Come on, you 
boys, if you can catch us.” 

“Hey?” exclaimed Captain Dan, wrath- 
fully. “Hey — if we can ketch him ! Yank up 
199 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


that anchor, Charlie. Lively, now; lively I 
Show him, boys, and do it yourselves,” he con- 
tinued, handing an oar to each. “Show him 
your mettle! Lay to it, boys — hard — hard — 
harder! Now we’re gaining — hard, now — 
harder. Gad, but this is racing ! Aha — I knew 
you ’d do it! Haw-haw-haw I” 


200 


CHAPTER XX 


Runt’s New Friend 

“This is great, chum!” 

“You Te right, Runt; I’ve enjoyed every 
minute since we got aboard.” 

“Got aboard!” exclaimed Runt, with a 
laugh; “you mean, tumbled aboard. How old 
Captain Ellis cheered us! At that moment I 
was rather sorry I ’d been so hasty about get- 
ting away, for I know he likes to have us 
around — but what bothers me now is my dull- 
ness.” 

“Where does it come in?” 

“Why, do n’t you remember his telling us 
about a wreck and saying he ’d show us a watch 
having a history that began at the time of the 
crash?” 

“Yes, but what of it?” 

“That steamer went to pieces at Cutty- 
hunk,” Runt answered, reflectively; “so did the 
one that sunk our schooner. Cap’n Ellis gave 
no details, but, by George, chum! the more I 
201 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


think of it, the more convinced I am that it 
was his steamer run us down, and if so, why, 
it ’s more than likely that he could have given 
me mighty reliable information. My, but 
was n’t I dense !” 

“You were all-fired slow that time, for a 
fact,” said Charlie, giving his chum a poke in 
the ribs. “Some one ought to wake you up, 
old man ; yet, do n’t worry over it, for you ’ll 
meet Captain Dan again, you know. Ten At- 
lantic Avenue will be his address; don’t for- 
get it. Runt, and do n’t forget his song : 

“Though the hurricanes howl and the lightnings fly, 
There ^s a rainbow will come, when the storm goes by.” 

“His song will stay by me, I guess, and 
I ’m not likely to forget the address,” Runt 
said; “and you can believe I ’ll see the old man 
on the very first day he opens. But, say, chum, 
I thought the tip end of Cape Cod was dreary 
enough; but look over there, will you I If that 
is n’t desolation, what is ? I suppose this is 
their harbor.” 

The smack had entered the narrow chan- 
nel which divides the extreme point of Nanset 
Beach from the head of Monomoy Island, a 
strip of isolated territory about one-half mile 
202 


RUNT’S NEW FRIEND 


in width, extending some ten miles in a south- 
easterly direction. 

On their port beam appeared a small clus- 
ter of weather-beaten hamlets, the homes of 
the hardy men who each year, from early May 
to November, make lobster-fishing their means 
of living, although some there are who go out 
with their little buckets and, when the mackerel 
fare is plenty off No Man’s Land, some twelve 
miles south, help the seiners deplete the schools. 
But this is mainly in the spring, when the 
speckled beauties first come shoreward. 

As the smack drew closer, one of the sail- 
ors, rope in hand, joined the boys in the bow. 
“Whiz I” 

Away went the hempen coil for some one 
upon the pier to seize, and then draw out the 
hawser to make fast. 

The throw, however, was a poor one, and, 
falling short, the rope caught far down upon 
a spike in one of the piles, and was useless 
alike to those upon the pier and to the helpless 
seaman. 

“Now see what you Ve done!” roared the 
angry skipper, and, rushing forward, he seized 
the line and attempted to free it from the 
spike ; but the line held fast. 

Stem first, on came the smack. 

203 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


Runt saw what was wrong, and the moment 
the bow came near the pier he nimbly vaulted 
the rail, dropped over the stringpiece, and, 
holding on by one hand, he reached down and 
deftly freed the line ; the next moment his arm 
was gripped as in a vise, and a rugged lobster- 
man drew him upon the pier. 

“That was a neat bit of work, lad — a 
neat bit. I like to see a boy handy. What 
might be your name?” 

“Edward Estey, Junior,” Runt answered, 
promptly. 

“Estey, eh?” the lobsterman repeated, 
slowly. “Did you come to see any one here?” 

“Our coming was sudden impulse,” Runt 
laughed. “My chum and I are on a vacation. 
We spent last night at Provincetown with a 
Cap’n Ellis.” 

“Dan Ellis?” 

“Yes, sir; do you know him?” Runt asked, 
eagerly. 

“Know him? Know Dan Ellis? Why, he 
was an old shipmate of mine aboard the Living 
Age^ years ago; and later we were together on 
many a fishing trip. He was a master hand 
at piling in and out of a dory and in makin’ 
fast; an’ he ’d do it in just such a way as you 
204 


RUNT’S NEW FRIEND 

jumped now. So you know — Dan Ellis, do 
you ?” 

“Yes, sir; I do. We met by mere chance 
the day before yesterday, and somehow I took 
to the old man on sight, and I like him first 
rate. He must have been smart in his young 
days, and his record as a sea captain is pretty 
clean, isn’t it?” 

“Right you are, boy; an’ old Dan is as 
clean of mouth as of record; that ’s my idea,” 
declared the lobsterman, stoutly. “He went 
all wrong for a time, after his troubles, but he 
came back again, all right.” 

“You mean after being adrift on Georges?” 
Runt asked. 

“Yes,” said the lobsterman, “that’s just 
what I do mean. He ’s been all right since 
then, Dan has. ’T was touch an’ go for a long 
spell after that, because he got the rheumatiz, 
that ’s hung to him ever since closer than a 
brother; an’ that, of course, kep’ him from 
where he belonged — on the bridge of the big- 
gest liner afloat; that ’s my idea. But I say, are 
you here to see the Island, or were you just 
out for a sail?” 

Runt thought quickly and said: “My chum 
is aboard the smack, sir. Would you show us 
205 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


how lobsters are caught? We are both greatly 
interested in this work.” 

The lobsterman’s face glowed. “You ’re 
a friend of Dan Ellis,” he said, heartily. “You 
stayed with him last night; so you ’ll stay with 
me to-night; for any friend of his is welcome 
here! Yes, boy, I ’ll take you out; but mind, 
you ’ve got to turn in and turn out everlastingly 
early, for you see, last night’s storm kicked up 
such a sea down here, we could n’t get out to- 
day, so we must get away very early in the 
morning.” 

“What is your name, please, sir?” Runt 
asked. 

“Call me Sam.” 

“No, sir!” Runt said, stoutly. “It’ll be 
either Mister or Cap’n Somebody; now, what, 
please?” 

“Well, Winslow will do,” came the smiling 
answer. “I ’m ol’ Sam Winslow.” 

“And this,” said Runt, as his chum joined 
him, “is Charlie Hill, a Boston boy.” 

As the lobsterman was chatting with Char- 
lie, he suddenly exclaimed: “Look here, boys, 
if we stand by much longer, there ’ll be no green 
goods left for ol’ Sam. Come aboard the 
smack and hear the barterings. 

“I ’m right glad of it, Sam,” the skipper 
206 


RUNT’S NEW FRIEND 


said, when, after making his purchases, the old 
man told him of his intention to give his young 
passengers an experience in “ketchin’ lobs.” 
“Yes, I ’m right glad of it. I first met the boys 
while we were tacking ship off Race Point way. 
They wanted this trip, and I told them it was 
theirs for the catching, and they caught. You 
three will make good dory mates, all right.” 

“We will. Jack; that’s my idea,” the lob- 
sterman responded, gathering up his purchases, 
and then calling, “Fall in, boys; let’s get this 
truck home.” 

After a trudge up to the cot through the 
deep sand, there came a jaunt back to the shore 
with a string of pots which were put into the 
boat in readiness for the early morning start. 

Then, after a hearty meal, which the half- 
famished boys keenly relished, all hands turned 
into the bunks; and as, with glad eagerness. 
Runt lay listening to the soft swash and break 
of the waves upon the shore, the voice of his 
host called quietly across to him, 

“Are you awake, boys?” 

“Yes.” 

“I ’m glad of it. Just wanted to ask if it 
were much of a storm up that way last night, 
was it?” 

“I should say yes,” Charlie answered. “He 
207 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


had company, and all four of us were playing 
checkers, so he did n’t seem to mind it much, 
but his old cottage fairly shook at times, and 
I could hear it creak. Gee, whiz, didn’t it 
blow I” 

“Huh !” came from the hammock across the 
living-room, and in most disdainful tone. 
“Huh, when it ’s windy enough to take the hair 
clean off your head, that ’s when you may say 
it blows I” 

“I should say sol” Charlie declared, with 
vigor; “is that the way you get it here at Mon- 
omoy?’ 

“Huh, no; I wasn’t thinking of Monomoy 
then, but of my last run with old Dan as mas- 
ter.” 

“Tell us about it, will you?” Charlie called, 
eagerly. “We are both wide awake over here, 
and listening.” 

“I ’m not worth a darn at spinnin’ a yarn,” 
the lobsterman drawled in lazy tones ; “but it ’s 
about like this. He had command of the Spar- 
tan then, a fourteen hundred and fifty tonner, 
I think she was, an’ I was first officer. We 
were off Cape May at the time, when, swish! 
down upon us that hurricane came screamin’, 
an’ we got it good, hard, an’ some more, as 
we were right square in the center of it, an’ 
208 


RUNT’S NEW FRIEND 


under bare poles we went scuddin’ before it like 
mad I Finally Dan called all hands, an’ lined 
us up all in a row along the weather rail.” 

Runt remained silent, but his chum called 
eagerly, “Why?” 

“So as we could hold onto one another’s hair 
to keep it from blowin’ off.” 

Runt roared with laughter, and as Charlie 
realized himself the victim of a “yarn,” he be- 
came inspired with a bright idea, so eagerly 
called, “All in a rowl” 

“That ’s it, the whole eighteen of us all 
in a row!” 

“How about the last man?” Charlie asked. 

“The last man?” 

“Yes, the one nighest the wind. Who held 
on to his hair?” 

“Him? Huh; O, yes; I remember now 
that last man was bald-headed, see?” 


14 


209 


CHAPTER XXI 


Out With the Lobsterman 

It was not yet daylight. 

“We ’ll just have to soak along this mornin’, 
boys,” the old lobsterman explained, as the 
early meal ended, “for this blow, while not 
hard enough to take off any hair, won’t allow 
a sail, not yet, anyway, an’ I ’m fearful the 
tide ’ll turn before we reach the first set even, 
an’ that means mischief sure, for at this time 
of the year It runs pretty swift hereabouts, an’ 
to be caught might mean a sail out to sea. 

“Let me see; there ’s three of us. I ’ll put 
In some extra oars, anyway, less peradventure 
we should have to pull against the tide, you 
know. Well, now let’s start I” 

All about was a dense fog. 

As the old man shoved off the dory with 
his steering oar, the boys gathered up their 
oars, and with lusty strokes speeded it toward 
the catboat. 

“Gee, whiz, lads!” exclaimed the lobster- 


210 


OUT WITH THE LOBSTERMAN 

man, in surprise, “for city chaps you can row, 
an^ no mistake; but can you keep it up, eh? 
Bein’ able to stick to it is the main thing about 
rowin’, that ’s my idea.” 

“City boys are not weaklings,” Runt re- 
plied, laughingly. “Our open-air gymnasiums 
develop thousands like us.” 

“Huh!” the old man ejaculated. “Well, 
so be it; but here’s the Mermaid^ lads; pile 
aboard lively.” Then, as he tied the dory 
astern and climbed upon the catboat, he waved 
the helm to Runt, who was glad enough to 
take a trick at it. 

“Charlie may help put the sail on the stick,” 
he continued. “I ’ll risk it awhile, anyway. 
Get there quick; that ’s my idea!” 

Up went the sail, and before almost half 
a gale the Mermaid^ to the delight of the boys, 
went scudding along toward Nantucket; but this 
pace was not for long, and soon the wind was 
simply a cat’s paw, while the huge gray walls 
of mist gradually melted away, it was still dark, 
so that many beacon lights could be seen. Soon 
they were passing the twinkling lights of the 
lightship and the many Boston-bound craft, the 
while their companion chatting cheerily, vary- 
ing his remarks from the leading topics of the 
day to comments on the things about them, 

21 I 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


especially pointing out to them the demerits of 
the catboats it was his fortune to pass on the 
trip to the fishing grounds. 

Old ocean slept, and all the world was 
asleep, it seemed, and an awe-inspiring silence 
fell upon them. Not even the screaming sea- 
gulls were about. Then the wind died out 
altogether, and they were left to soak along. 
The stillness was intense, and to all was now 
added a wonderful sight. Away on their left, 
astern, the sky began to grow lighter and 
lighter, and then suddenly a red flame flashed 
upon the gunwale and sail. It was sunrise I 

When seen out on the ocean, the early gray 
dawn is the most beautiful time of the day; and 
as Runt realized this upon that bright morning, 
a thankfulness never before known entered his 
heart; and as if reading his innermost soul, 
the old lobsterman said, warmly: 

“Fine sight, this, isn’t it, boys? Who 
would say there is no God?” 

“Not II” exclaimed Runt, enthusiastically. 

“Not 1 1” echoed Charlie, quickly adding. 
“I ’m no poet, like Runt, Captain; but just the 
same such a sight thrills me through and 
through.” 

“It is ’nt poetry so much as it is the heart, 
boy. That ’s my idea,” the lobsterman an- 


212 


OUT WITH THE LOBSTERMAN 


swered, quietly. “If the heart is right, you ’re 
all right.” 

The morning was far advanced when they 
reached the first buoy keg bearing a “W,” the 
initial of the genial philosopher, for all strings 
of lobster pots are marked with the initial of 
the owner. 

“That ‘W’ means Sam Winslow, under- 
stand,” he called, cheerily, as he tied the wheel 
hard down. “Now you two boys jes’ remain 
aboard the flagship an’ watch the proceedings.” 

Drawing close the dory, which had been 
towing astern, he leaped into it, and after 
hooking up the marked buoy, he passed it and 
the line amidships across the dory, so it was 
anchored on each side, thus lessening greatly 
the danger of capsizing. 

Pulling in some fifteen fathoms of rope, the 
first pot was jerked out of the water and came 
slowly over the gunwale of the dory. To the 
boys these little slatted cars resembled a small 
chicken coop, with a funnel-shaped hole at 
each end, through which the lobster enters, the 
claws preventing escape, so their companion 
explained. 

The writhing, squirming creatures were 
brimful of fierce fight the moment the pot was 
above water, and it required great skill to se- 
213 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


cure them. One at a time each was grasped 
from above and, with the swimmerts skyward, 
was held downward while a wooden plug was 
deftly inserted in the claws, this preventing 
their use, for the manipulation of these claws is 
disastrous alike to the digits of the fisherman 
and to the weaker of the captives. 

“You keep count, boys,” the toiler called, 
as he plugged and threw them into the bottom 
of the dory. “Keep count an’ watch I” 

When the pot was emptied, it was rebaited 
with dead fish — long dead, the boys thought — 
the string was again taken up, the weighted pot 
thrown overboard, and another pot came over; 
and so the entire string of eight pots was fol- 
lowed up and the catch secured. The boys 
were told that, including the buoy keg lines, 
each string is quite one hundred and fifty 
fathoms long, and when it is exhausted, the lee 
end is again moored and anchored, the lobster- 
man returns to the catboat, the wheel is loosed, 
and on he goes to the anchorage of another set. 

“Why do you throw some back into the 
sea?” Runt asked. 

“Too short,” came the answer. “It ’s il- 
legal to market ’em under seven inches. 
Trouble is, the slats in our pots are put too 
near together. If they were, say, two inches 
214 


OUT WITH THE LOBSTERMAN 


apart, the trap could n’t hold the little fellows, 
an’ then there would n’t be any need of this 
Wood’s Hole hatchery, nor no other. 

“Why, the law had it we must n’t tech egg- 
bearing females I Why, boys, at times half our 
ketch is that I But there ’s tricks in all trades, 
you know,” he remarked, with a broad grin, 
adding quickly, “Not that Sam Winslow is 
up to ’em, you know, ha-ha!” 


215 


CHAPTER XXII 


“A Home on the Bounding Wave** 

“Ah, but it feels good to tread these decks 
again after a whole day ashore! You’re a 
jewel, Eugene; you did well last night, and 
upon my word, if I retire before Ed, junior, 
here, gets down to it, I ’ll put you in com- 
mand 1” Skipper Estey declared, happily, as with 
the boys he boarded the Fiji in Chatham har- 
bor just at dusk on the afternoon of their trip 
to the lobster pots. “All hands get the fores’l 
up!” he sliouted, as the crew left the anchor. 
Then turning to the boys and waving his hand 
toward the southeast, he added: “You see, lads, 
what we have got to go through. Anywhere 
else, and with this strong wind lashing her 
astern, we could wing her out and go racing 
along like a colt; but a nor’ westerly hereabouts 
means low tides. Look there, will you — a per- 
fect network of buoys and about everything 
else that human brain can devise, anchored 
everywhere to point out the sand pits and 
216 


A HOME ON THE BOUNDING WAVE 


shoals. Ah, but this is a bad spot, and the 
currents are something awful ; but that ’s what 
we ’re out for now — to ketch the current. 
Mains’l now, lads!” he next called, and when 
the reefs had been shaken out, he added, “Now 
the foretops’l, and let her go at that!” 

After giving the helmsman the course, he 
added, cheerily, “Keep her before the wind. 
Gene, and do n’t see me on deck till we pass 
Lone Rock or Old Man Ledge.” 

With Runt and Charlie following, he then 
went to the waist, and the three seated them- 
selves in the dory which rested in the seine boat. 

“There ’s your Monomoy over yonder. 
Runt,” the skipper said, laughingly. “I sup- 
pose, now you ’ll alius remember the place.” 

“Always!” Runt said, with energy, then 
added, ruefully, “All I ’m sorry for is that 
our boarding that Chatham bound tug-boat 
when it passed the Mermaid kept us from get- 
ting back, for I went there with a purpose.” 

“Look at the lad, will you. Squid!” the 
skipper exclaimed, laughing heartily. “Almost 
crying, isn’t he? ’Pon my word. Runt, but 
it ’s a young knight errant that you are, and no 
mistake. Ha-ha-ha ! lad, what did you purpose 
to do, anyway — kill hyenas or tigers? No, 
no. Squid,” he continued, as he nudged Runt’s 
217 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


chum, “it was a grizzly he was after; that’s 
it, a grizzly!” 

Charlie hugely enjoyed the bantering, but, 
perceiving Runt’s discomfort, he said, quickly: 

“Captain Estey, I ’ve seen lobsters taken 
and the weirmen at the weirs, and Cap’n Dan 
told me about cod fishing; so I ’d like you to 
tell me how mackered are caught, will you?” 

“What a question-box you are!” the skip- 
per said. “A regular interrogation point ! Just 
the same, lad, I ’m glad you fire them at me, 
even if I am getting a bit short-winded in an- 
swering so many. Well, then, once on the 
fishing grounds, and the masthead watch be- 
gins; but we may be there for days and never 
see a mackerel: we know they are there, how- 
ever, because whenever we toss food upon the 
surface, up they come; but when the food is 
gone, down they go. 

“At other times you will see a dense mass 
of them on the surface, miles in length, miles 
in breadth, too, mebbe. At such times we only 
have to be careful not to scare them too much; 
it ’s simply a matter of wits against wits, and 
sometimes the fisher gets it and sometimes the 
fish. 

“When we ’re on the grounds and can’t 
see ’em, we get ready just as if they were on 
218 


A HOME ON THE BOUNDING WAVE 


the surface. We heave to and drop the seine 
boat and dory over the port side, which is 
loo’ard when hove to, you know. Or perhaps 
we keep cruising easily about; but that’s just 
as the skipper feels. After it is overhauled, one 
of these two seines goes into the boat, which is 
hauled close. Then I take the bait bucket and, 
going amidships on the wind’ard side, I throw 
food for the fishes. If they come from the 
depths, well and good, we go after ’em, pro- 
viding enough rise to make it pay for the labor. 
If they do n’t come up we wait awhile, and 
again try throwing bait. 

‘‘Some of the skippers are ringing in a so- 
called ‘gasoline auxiliary’ in place of the boat, 
but I prefer the old way, even if the pesky 
motor-boat is faster and lightens our labor, and 
there ’s another new-fangled idea I want noth- 
ing to do with, either: the steam trawler nui- 
sance, see ? But, Squid, to get back to the good, 
old-fashioned way of getting ’em. When they 
come all together, our work begins. One man 
is left at the wheel, while for a time another 
keeps throwing food to wind’ard. Two make 
for the dory, and the rest tumble into the boat, 
fourteen men, seven oars to a side, and the 
skipper in the stern. When some twenty 
fathoms off our starboard quarter, in huge 
219 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


bunches over goes the seine, the weights taking 
the bottom of it thirty or more fathoms down 
into the depths, while the top is kept on the 
surface by cork or glass floats. So you see the 
netting hangs like a great curtain, and you 
may well believe it does n’t take those fellows 
long to hang that quarter mile of it. 

“The two in the dory pick up and hold on 
to the buoy we tossed overboard, and the boat 
moves on just as lively as the seine can be 
dropped over; for, though I may all the time 
be shouting, ‘Drive her I Drive her I’ we have 
to be careful, as seines cost big money. But 
with experienced fishermen they ’re all right, 
and last a long time. 

“Of course, the vessel is constantly working 
to loo’ard; so we get that way as fast as pos- 
sible. When we reach the canvas-covered float, 
which tells us we ’ve got to the middle of the 
netting, we turn sharp, and, coming close under 
the bov/ of our vessel, we make for the dory. 
If we ’ve been quick, the ketch is ours; for all 
that remains is to pull in on the latchet which 
runs around the bottom of the seine, and in 
short order we have a big, horn-shaped bag — ” 

“Full of mackerel,” broke in Charlie, glee- 
fully. 

“Not alius. Squid; not by a good deal! A 
220 


A HOME ON THE BOUNDING WAVE 


lot of things may happen, any one of which 
means good-bye lish.” 

“Well, after making the bag, then what. 
Captain?” 

“They call that pursing, lad; making a 
purse, to keep them in. Well, then, after purs- 
ing I wave my oar to the man aboard ship, the 
fore sheet is hauled in, up goes the jib, the 
wheel is righted, and the vessel pays off. She ’s 
slow at first; then, getting good headway, away 
she goes, the keel sliding over the glass floats 
as easy as you ’d go skating; and if you have 
any ketch at all, it ’s yours now ! 

“This getting headway on your vessel must 
be skillfully done, lad, else, driven by wind 
and wave, she ’ll drift broadside to the ropes 
and — rip I — tear! — goes the seine, and that 
means days of work repairing damages. 

“With the vessel over the floats, the fish 
are ‘dried up’ by us gathering in all the slack 
line. A part of the edge is gathered inboard 
and clamped down, and then, with the big dip- 
net, our ketch is transferred from the bunt, or 
bailing piece of the seine, to the deck; and then 
it’s ‘He-yowl’ and ‘Cy-hool’ until ‘All dry!’ 
is called and the seine is hoisted and the dory 
got in the waist. We gener’ly leave the boat 
towing, and then begins the work of dressing, 
221 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


salting, or icing; and with a fair haul this 
means hours and hours of hard work. But the 
lads have an eye tor the shining dollar; so the 
joking and singing goes on as if they were 
getting their sleep regular. 

“We ’re mack’lling instead of going to the 
Banks this trip, Squid, because, late as it is, the 
beauties are hovering about. They came late 
this spring, might}^ late ; but they were all small 
fish — that ’s the sign of a good season — and 
we ’ve had a good season, and no mistake, 
stocking upwards of twenty thousand dollars, 
more than ten hundred and fifty for each man’s 
share. How’s that. Runt?” 

“All right, father! But, say, if you set a 
seine, is there any part of the work you ’ll let 
Charlie and me do?” 

“I ’ll see ; I ’ll see,” the skipper said, slowly, 
as he mentally determined that they should 
take an active part, and more than ever in all 
his years of seining he was anxious for mackerel. 

“Runt is coming fast,” he mused, happily, 
“coming fast, and I ’ll make a sailor of him 
yet — an experience will win him sure I” 

“Oil up and be ready!” 

The skipper leaped to the deck, and the 
shout from the man aloft sent the blood cours- 
ing through Runt’s veins. 


222 


A HOME ON THE BOUNDING WAVE 


“Where away?” asked Skipper Estey, rush- 
ing forward. 

“Sou’ard and west’ard,” the lookout an- 
swered. 

“On deck, everybody I Slap the stays’l to 
her lively, lads! Now then, up with the bal- 
loon — all together now — come — 0-ho — sway 
away! 0-ho! Good! Get the boat along- 
side! In with the seine! Get the dory over! 
Here ’s your chance. Runt — ^you and Squid 
tumble into the dory. Into the boat, lads! 
Away with you! Drive her! Drive her!” 

It was a rapid running fire of orders, and 
as the men went tumbling into the boat, the 
boys leaped into the dory, which four men had 
tossed over the rail. 

Away they went! 

“Look lively!” shouted the skipper, as the 
seine boat went sliding by them. “Hang on to 
the buoy till we come back to you, and hang 
on hard!” 

The boys were extremely happy as with 
long, sweeping strokes they chased the big boat 
around to the starboard quarter, and as the 
buoy end of the huge mass of brown netting 
was tossed overboard they hauled alongside 
and secured it. Though yet early, the night 
was one of inky blackness; yet all about them 
223 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


the sea was aflame with the hordes of shining 
backs of the fish they would harvest. 

could sing now, sure enough,” Runt said, 
softly, to his chum. 

“I ’ll be with you on the chorus when the 
time comes,” Charlie responded, cheerily, “and 
let it be loud, good, and strong! It ’s hard to 
keep quiet when you ’re happy, eh. Runt? 
Isn’t this grand? We are sailors now, sure!” 

Their little dory rocked and tossed about 
on the billows, but they held fast to the buoy, 
and when the boat came and the pursing was 
done, with their victims “dried up,” the song 
burst forth: 

“The land is no longer in view; 

The clouds have begun to frown; 

But with a stout vessel and crew, 

We ’ll say, let the storm come down. 

And the song of our hearts shall be. 

While the winds and waters rave, 

A life on the heaving sea, 

A home on the bounding wave!” 

The men in the boat caught up the refrain 
as they waited for the Fiji to come alongside, 
and, unmindful of the lameness and soreness 
consequent upon their arduous labors, they sang 
224 


A HOME ON THE BOUNDING WAVE 


uproariously, while in the darkness none could 
see the tears streaming down the sun-tanned, 
weather-beaten face of the skipper in the stern. 

“At last! at last I After all these years!” 
he muttered, peacefully. “Just hear them 
sing; it’s grand, and Runt’s voice leads them 
all!” 


16 


225 


CHAPTER XXIII 


“ Runt’s Grizzly ” 

“Gene took ten thousand pounds night be- 
fore last/’ said Skipper Estey as, with the bail- 
ing in finished and the seine in the boat, he de- 
cided to dress and salt his catch; “and the day 
before we hauled four thousand. That lets 
us stow away a hundred and forty odd barrels. 
We Ve room for more, lads; so let ’s cull them 
while we can.” 

The wind died out and the great sea plain 
became almost as stirless as a painted picture. 
Left to herself, with jibs set, and the wheel in 
the becket, the Fiji soaked sluggishly along. 

Clad in oilskins. Runt and Charlie kept on 
deck to help in the dressing, and in spirited 
rivalry they worked hard to determine which 
could the quicker empty his keeler. 

The rivalry continued as the night passed 
and the morning wore on, the log board nailed 
by the skipper against the foremast always 
showing Runt in the lead, though by so small 
a margin as to keep up a lively interest. 

Just before noon the skipper called: “We ’ll 
226 


RUNT’S GRIZZLY 


run with them a little longer, lads. It ’ll prob- 
ably be the last lot this year. We ’ll hoist main, 
fore, jumbo, and balloon, and let her move 
some that way if she can while we ’re at din- 
ner. 

One bell, and with Gene Paul in the lead 
the crew came filing out of the forecastle. 

“Hardly a breath of wind,” said he, on 
reaching the deck. “Not a breath, I might say. 
Whose trick at the wheel is it?” he called. 

“Mine,” answered Will Oxford, the young- 
est member of the crew. 

“All right. Will; keep her sou-sou’east. 
We won’t have to lash you to it this afternoon, 
I ’m thinking. Clean down decks now, lads, 
and at three bells we ’ll begin overhauling the 
rigging; and the backstays need new chaffing, 
I ’m thinking. The old man keeps below till 
eight bells, when we ’ll give him a surprise. 
What are you two spare hands going to do?” 
he asked, suddenly, turning on Runt and 
Charlie. 

“Work,” replied Charlie. “What shall we 
do, Mr. Paul?” 

“Well, I ’ll send you both into the fore- 
riggin’, and do you keep a sharp lookout, for 
we ’re right in the track of the big greyhounds 
here.” And as the boys went scrambling aloft, 
227 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


he continued, in a low tone, to the men about 
him: “That gets them out of the road. 
They ’re all right in their way, but would n’t be 
of much use tarring down riggin’, I ’m think- 
ing.” 

“How do you like being a sailor. Runt?” 
asked Charlie, enthusiastically, as their long 
watch wore on slowly. 

“It ’s all right, chum, the part we ’ve had 
out in the boats, and this is fine — up here. I 
could be the lookout aloft all the time, I guess. 
What a dandy picture this makes ! It looks as 
if the whole world of sea and sky were asleep; 
does n’t it?” 

“I ’m not a poet. Runt,” Charlie chuckled. 
“Hello! what ’s that off there?” he exclaimed, 
pointing to the southwest. 

“A sailboat, sure — and, by George I she ’s 
moving. Who ever heard of such a thing — 
we almost motionless, and that running before 
the wind ! Guess we ’ll report it. Gracious, 
how she keels over! 

“Sail ho!” Runt shouted, as Charlie and he 
went tumbling to the deck. 

“Where away?” 

“On the starboard beam, sir.” 

Gene scanned the boat closely with the 
glass, saying quietly: “There ’s no one aboard, 
228 


RUNT’S GRIZZLY 


I ’m thinking. As to her bowling along that 
way, and we becalmed, that ’s not an uncommon 
sight to an old salt, boys ; in fact, we see it often. 
They ’ve got wind, and we have n’t; that ’s all. 
As to the craft, I ’m thinking she ’s a lobster- 
man’s catboat. Some of those fellows have a 
trick of tieing the wheel up hard and letting 
her just soak along, while he, in the dory, 
keeps just astern as he empties and rebaits his 
pots. Then, at the end of a string, he jumps 
into the catboat, releases the wheel, and sails 
her over to another string. It ’s an old trick, 
an’ I ’m thinking this time the boat was one 
too many for the man. It ’s been calm where 
he was ; so he ’s been working from string to 
string in his dory; along comes that current of 
wind, and the catboat takes to her heels, with 
her skipper probably a mile or more off and all 
unconscious of a wind racing hit boat away. 
Well, whoever catches her gets a goodly sum 
of money, I ’m thinkin’.” 

“May we go after her?” Runt asked, 
eagerly. 

“She won’t come nearer than a mile and a 
half to us, boys, and you would have to tow 
her back.” 

“We would n’t mind that, would we, 
chum ?” 


229 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


Gene looked at the weather. 

“It ’s all right aloft,” he said, slowly, “but 
there ’s wind over yonder; so there ’s no telling 
when we might get it here. I won’t take the 
responsibility of letting you go. Ask the old 
man if you like, though.” 

The boys rushed below, and as Runt 
pounded vigorously on the door of the skipper’s 
cabin, it came open with a suddenness that sent 
him sprawling. 

“What the dickens is wrong, anyway?” 
Skipper Estey exclaimed, helping Runt to his 
feet. 

“Nothing wrong, sir. There ’s a lobster- 
man’s runaway catboat about a mile away on 
our starboard beam. May we go after it in 
the dory?” 

“Huh I That ’s a nice thing to wake a man 
up for. That was my first nap in forty-eight 
hours I” 

“I ’m sorry, father. I did n’t think; that ’s 
all. But may we go?” 

“I ’ll see. Go on deck; I ’ll be there soon.” 

His decision came quickly. 

“An hour will see them back. Gene, and 
the weather won’t change in that time. Yes, 
boys, I ’ll let you go.” 


230 


RUNT’S GRIZZLY 


“Isn’t this glorious!” Runt exclaimed, as 
they gripped their oars and pulled rapidly 
away. “Let ’s show the boys the stroke we 
pull when we ’re off City Point!” 

On board ship the skipper turned to Gene. 
“That ’s a happy pair,” he said, heartily. 

“That ’s what I ’m thinking, and they pull 
together strong and steady. Think there ’s any 
likelihood of their joining in with us, Ed?” As 
he spoke. Gene eyed the master keenly. 

“You rascal,” laughed the skipper, “I warn 
you — do n’t tread on my pet corn ! But, joking 
aside, Gene, you ’ve seen about all that I have 
— what do you think about it?” 

“It ’s born in the other boy.” 

“And Runt?” 

Gene shook his head dubiously. “I can’t 
say, Ed; he’s got it in his blood somewhere, 
I’m thinking; so maybe eventually he’ll take 
to it. This soft side of the life ’s all right, of 
course, an’ no doubt he ’s in love with it; but 
the question is, if put right up against the real 
thing, how ’d he feel — ” 

“Skipper!” 

The young helmsman called sharply. 

“Aye, Will,” the master answered, as he 
turned his head slowly. 

231 


ON AND OFF SHORE 

“Look at the sky east-nor’east.” 

“Hard aport, ev’ry spoke I All hands stand 
by to lower main an’ fores’l. Lively, you lub- 
bers. Lively I” 

Quick, sharp, and clear his orders rang out. 
Yet as the skipper sprang forward to help let 
go and clew up, a cry came from his heart. 

“God protect Runt now ! The boy has got 
his grizzly all right I” 

As eagerly as the rest the young helmsman 
had watched the rowers as they speeded away, 
keeping time with their voices in a stirring sea 
song, and as the inspiring words reached him, 
he turned wistfully away. 

“That ’s all very fine,” he mused, as he 
leaned listlessly over the wheel, “but put either 
of them in my place, and there would n’t be 
any music keeping time with the oars I They ’re 
smart ones, all right, and both of them are 
bound to make things go their way, while a 
poor chap like me has got to — Hello ! 
What’s that?” 

For a moment he watched a black mass 
mounting swiftly higher and higher across the 
clear horizon — a moment, and then he uttered 
the warning. 

Limp and motionless the great gray sails 
hung to the spars in the calm before the storm. 

232 


RUNT’S GRIZZLY 


Whirling and turning, the monster cloud came 
on. It crossed the sun, and still on, on it came I 

Then with a mighty roar the storm burst 
on them with sounds like the reports of cannon, 
and over went the Fiji. 

“Jump, Gene! Jump! Help th?t boy at 
the wheel ! Put it down hard — hard — and 
keep it down!” shouted the skipper. 

But no shout could be heard above the din 
and roar of that moment; all depended on the 
wit, coolness, and endurance of the boy, Willie. 

With the first rush of the wind, instinctively 
he threw all his young strength on the wheel. 
Getting it over as far as possible to leeward, 
he kept It down, though pounded fiercely by 
wind and sea, until slowly the Fiji came up 
and her head swung into the wind. But hardly 
was she righted than the foresail was split from 
top to bottom. 

The rain came down In torrents, and the 
blackness of night was about the men as, des- 
perately, they struggled to get In sail. 

“She did n’t capsize, anyway,” muttered the 
young helmsman, as he set his teeth and en- 
deavored to brace himself more firmly. “I 
did the right thing at just the right time ; I ’m 
glad.” 

Skipper Estey came rushing to him. 

233 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


“You’re a man, Willie!” he shouted in the 
boy’s ear. “From now on you get a man’s 
share, ev’ry trip! Want any help now?” 

“No,” answered the happy boy; “let me 
hold it alone, please.” 

*‘A11 right, lad. Keep her as you have her 
till it ’s over, then turn her head west-sou’- 
west. We must go after the lads, you know. 
This puff won’t last long.” 

There was truth in his words, for the wind 
soon fell; but a heavy gray mist enshrouded 
them on all sides. 

“How about the lads. Gene? Could they 
weather it, think?” 

The anxiety in the tone, the expression in 
the face, and the beseeching look in the skip- 
per’s eyes told of his love for them, and as he 
read the heart-story. Gene’s sole thought was, 
“Why crush the old man?” so he answered, 
cautiously: “They had a chance, I ’m thinkin’, 
Ed; a big chance ! The dory is new and a good 
one, and the dipper was in her for bailing.” 

“This thing is about over. Gene ; I ’m go- 
ing below,” responded the skipper. “Put it to 
the men this way — I say, to the first man who 
either sees or hears the lads, its five hundred 
cash, and let me know the minute anything 
turns up.” 


234 


RUNT’S GRIZZLY 


Calling all hands aft, Gene announced the 
skipper’s offer. 

“What can we do?” asked Jim Pitt, eagerly. 
“Of course we ’ll do anything we can for the 
old man. Gene, an’ never a thought of his 
reward, either; but in this case, what can 
we do?” 

“Find them!” was the decisive answer. 
“Get out the big megaphone, and the horn, 
and talk out to them, and toot, and listen, as 
we follow in the track of the storm. We ’ll 
beat about in these waters till, one way or an- 
other, we know for sure.” 

The Fiji^s crew, aside from the skipper, the 
boy Will, and cook, numbered sixteen men, all 
brave, stout, and sturdy fellows. Each man 
was known to be “a good man aboard a vessel.” 

The afternoon watch had slipped by and 
the first dog watch merged into the last, and 
then the four hours to the middle watch wore 
on, and even the morning watch came, yet none 
of the men had told off to their bunks. The 
watches were spent on deck, tacking, reefing, 
and hauling. But it was not with the thought 
of reward that the men toiled on during the 
long hours. 

Once Gene looked in on Skipper Estey, as he 
paced the floor of his cabin, and he had sub- 
235 


ON AND OFF SHORE 

sequently said to the men: “If ever the cup of 
sorrow was drained, he ’s drainin’ it now, I ’m 
thinkin’ ! He ’s the easiest man to fly into a 
rage that ever I saw, Ed is; and mates, he is 
also the bravest man that ever trod a deck, 
I ’m thinking; and yet, brave as he is, think of 
what I just saw, tears rolling down Ed Estey’s 
cheeks ! Come, lads, for Ed’s sake, we ’ve got 
to do something, I ’m thinking, and do it quick, 
tool” 


236 


CHAPTER XXIV 


With the Boys 

“Look, Runt, look!” Charlie stopped row- 
ing and pointed astern. “There ’s a big storm 
coming fast. What shall we do?” Then, no- 
ticing that his friend was ashen pale, he asked, 
“Are you scared. Runt?” 

“Not before I ’’m hurt, chum; but God 
alone can save us now,” Runt answered, grimly. 
“We ’ll be at the mercy of what dad calls a 
‘screaming hurricane.’ Turn quickly, and face 
the bow; then we’ll bend over, so that our 
backs won’t be a wall for the wind. 

“Ah! Here ’s a dipper. Good. O-o-o!” 

The storm had burst upon them ! 

The bow of the dory plunged down into 
the depths as the great, white foam came 
whirling onward, and the volume of water 
shipped filled it almost to the thwarts. Runt, 
in the bow, braced his feet firmly against the 
sides and bailed furiously as they tore along. 

Then came the deluge. Loosening his 
shoes, Charlie braced himself, as had Runt, 

237 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


and with a shoe in each hand he joined in the 
work of bailing. 

Cool heads and prompt action will always 
go far toward averting calamity, and the boys’ 
efforts were not in vain. But not till the fury 
of the storm was spent, and the water pretty 
well bailed out did either of them pause for a 
moment. 

Then Charlie called, “Say, Runt, was n’t 
that blow what friend Winslow would call hair- 
raising? Ha-ha-ha!” 

“I ’m satisfied, thank you I” 

“What 1 Have you given up being a sailor. 
Runt?” 

“Let up, chum, we ’re not out of the boat 
yet.” 

“Ha, ha,” laughed Charlie; “I’ll tell the 
captain that one. But say, are you expecting 
another grizzly, or was that one enough for 
you ?” 

“Don’t joke, chum; look at the fog com- 
ing.” 

“That will lift in a few minutes, won’t it?” 

“I do n’t think it will. It looks as if we 
were in for a long spell of fog.” 

“No!” 

“I ’m pretty sure of it. I ’ve often heard 
dad tell of similar storms. Night is coming 
238 


WITH THE BOYS 


on, and the weather ’ll keep heavy sure ; then, 
again, either we ’ve turned completely around, 
or else this is a westerly wind — and if it is — 
we ’ll be blown out to sea.” 

“What can we do. Runt?” There was no 
lightness now in Charlie’s tones. 

“Keep rowing so as not to get numb with 
cold; keep awake, and keep our wits, that ’s all. 
Where ’s that song you were singing, old man?” 

Charlie was silent, and Runt did not joke 
him further. 

The afternoon wore away, and the appall- 
ing blackness of a foggy night settled slowly 
about them. They called and shouted together, 
and hushed their breath to hear a response. 
They strained their eyes to see; yet, what could 
it avail? They ceased rowing, and the dory 
sagged along while the hours dragged heavily. 

“I ’m awfully hungry. Runt. Where are 
we, anyway; got an idea?” 

“Somewhere off Chatham, I think, by the 
way the men talked at dinner-time, and some- 
thing like fifteen miles.” 

“Gosh ! Is that all? Why, we could easily 
row fifteen miles.” 

“Yes, if only we had the course. To my 
mind, we ’re slipping out to sea; so pick up your 
oar, old man, and let’s go to rowing again; 

239 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


anyway, it ’ll keep us awake, and the last thing 
for us now is sleep. We must n’t think of that ; 
so keep rowing I” 

No song now lightened their labor, yet in 
better spirits they rowed on and kept rowing. 

Suddenly the bow of the dory bumped 
gently against something solid, and, reaching 
out quickly. Runt realized the object struck was 
another boat. 

“Ahoy!” he called, lustily. “Aho-o-o-y — 
On board the boat!” 

There was no response. 

The dory had struck but a glancing blow, 
and Runt yet clung to the gunwale of the boat. 

Suddenly he exclaimed: “As true as I live, 
chum, I believe it ’s the very boat we started 
after! You hang to her like grim death, and 
I ’ll board her. 

“She ’s got all the water aboard she can 
keep up under, I guess,” he called to his chum. 
“Give me that big dipper.” 

A lot of hard work followed before Runt 
again spoke. 

“I ’ve waited a moment to see if she 
leaked,” he finally said. “She does n’t, not a 
mite; and, my gracious, chum, here’s her lan- 
tern. We’re all right now, sure pop; for I 
240 


WITH THE BOYS 


have matches in a water-tight silver safe dad 
gave me. Hurrah I” 

The light put life and heart into the boys. 

“Hurrah!” Runt shouted again, as he 
opened the little locker. “Make fast astern, 
chum, and tumble aboard. The old fellow who 
owned this catboat did n’t eat the lunch he 
brought along, and just now I ’m mighty glad 
of it.” 

“Same here, old man!” Charlie said, as he 
also came aboard. “With food, a light, and a 
good boat, what more could we ask, eh?” 

“That ’s right, too, chum,” Runt responded, 
as he curled comfortably in the stern and ate 
with keen relish. Suddenly he spoke again: 
“I wouldn’t have missed this experience for 
anything.” 

“That means that you’ll follow the sea?” 

“Sure thing; my mind is made up; for me, 
‘a life on the ocean wave.’ ” 

“A fisherman?” 

“On that point, chum, I ’ve not yet decided. 
Of course, I ’ve been doing a lot of thinking 
about it, but all I can say now is, if that dad 
of mine could know my thoughts, he ’d be mor- 
ally certain that in my blood somewhere is a 
whole ocean of blue water! Ha-ha-ha-ha, I 
241 


16 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


wonder what my marm would say to hear me 
orate like that ‘old ocean for me.’ ” 

“Same here, old man,” Charlie replied 
calmly, but with marked decision. “Forever 
and evermore for me the briny deep !” 

“A fisherman?” 

“A fisherman!” 

“How about Freeman?” 

“O, I ’ll do the square thing by him, all 
right! He gave me my two weeks’ vacation 
money, expecting, of course, that I ’d return 
to work. I ’ll drop in to see him, state my po- 
sition, and give him back the advance. But 
I say, old man, now that we ’ve got a boat, will 
there be any change in our program?” 

“I ’ve been thinking along that line, chum, 
and wondering if we were so much better off, 
after all, for the stick has gone by the board, 
I see; so all is — Hello, here’s a compass, 
thank goodness! We ought to be all right 
now, sure. Get out the blades, chum, and we ’ll 
head her west and northwest, and keep her so.” 

In the glimmering morning light the course 
of the Nettie A, Nelson was still west by north- 
west, and Runt held her steadfastly to it. 

The lynx-eyed young Oxford was aloft, his 
heart full of sympathy for his skipper. Deeply, 
242 


WITH THE BOYS 


keenly he regretted his momentary bitterness 
against the lost ones. 

“They were all right, those boys,” he said 
to himself. “I see now what made the differ- 
ence between us — they were ambitious, as Gene 
says. I was never troubled that way. All I 
ever cared for was just to get along. Why 
could n’t I brace up and go after something as 
hard as they went after that old catboat? I ’ve 
a notion to vow I ’ll do it — and — and I will I” 
he finally declared. “I ’ll have a shy at being 
ambitious! No, I won’t always be just a fisher- 
man ! I ’ll learn navigation, and some day I ’ll 
be a skipper. That’s exactly what I ’ll do!” 

He straightened himself up as a great here- 
tofore unknown joy thrilled him, and, alert to 
his mission aloft, he scanned every atom of the 
horizon. 

Something that he saw sent him hurriedly 
to the deck. There was a conference with the 
watch, who seized the glass and ran nimbly 
aloft. 

As quickly he was on deck again. 

“Call Gene,” he said, quietly, and as Gene 
appeared the orders rang out, sharply: 

“All hands slap on every inch of canvas! 
Heave ho, my hearties!” Then he called to 

243 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


the helmsman: “East by nor’east, Tommy, my 
man; I ’m hopin’, an’ it ’s a big hope, too, I ’m 
thinking I” 

He then ran aloft, and when he descended 
to join the anxious group on the forecastle 
head, he said, warningly: “Not a sound, mates; 
not a sound, mind you — but the boys are there, 
all right. They got what they went after, al- 
though they got more ’n they bargained for, 
I ’m thinking.” 

“Willie,” he continued, turning to the happy 
boy, “you get the five hundred Ed agreed to 
give. You ’ve all done well by him, mates, 
every one of you, and he knows it. He told 
me there was another five hundred to be di- 
vided, share and share alike, among you. I 
was to tell you so to-night, no matter how things 
turned.” 

“Will the big ’un join in with us, do you 
think, Gene?” asked young Oxford, as they 
leaned over the port quarter. 

“I feel pretty sure of it, Willie, and we 
do well to get him.” 

“How is it with Ed’s boy?” 

“He ’s all right, every time; but if I read 
Runt Estey right, no fishin’ craft ’s big enough 
for him. If there ’s a drop of blue water in his 
244 


WITH THE BOYS 

veins, he ’ll want a liner or a warship, I ’m 
thinking.” 

“You’re right. Gene; you’re right,” de- 
clared Tom Dolbeare, joining them, and even 
at that the old man ought to be contented, for 
an admiral ’s as good a sailor as a fisherman, 
ev’ry bit!” 

“Into the boat, mates, six of you. You go 
in the boat, my boy,” Gene said, kindly, to Will. 
“You sighted the craft; so I give you charge of 
it. You ’re Captain Oxford — how does that 
suit you?” 

Swiftly the boat pulled away to the Nettie 
A. Nelson^ which had been sighted by Will, 
and within half an hour the boys once again felt 
the deck of the Fiji under their feet. 

Linking arms with Runt, Gene walked aft 
and talked with him a moment in hurried whis- 
pers. The boy then tiptoed to the skipper’s 
cabin. 

He tapped gently upon the door, and as 
gently it was opened. 

But two words were uttered, and they were : 

“Father!” 

“Runt!” 


245 


CHAPTER XXV 

Runt’s Last Shot 

“Estey, I ’m glad to see you back again,” 
Mr. Freeman said, heartily, as he greeted Runt 
the morning of his return to the store. “That 
was a close call you boys had. We all read 
about it in the paper. But we get you back 
again, both of you ; so let ’s get right down to 
business.” 

“It will have to be without Charlie from 
now on, Mr. Freeman, while my own stay de- 
pends entirely on — ” 

“What ’s all this, Estey ! Are you boys to 
leave us?” 

“Let Charlie speak for himself, sir,” Runt 
answered, respectfully. “For my part, our ex- 
periences have thrilled me with a love of deep 
water, and I am sure that I could never feel 
satisfied with life ashore. To me it was a glo- 
rious awakening I My folks have consented to 
let me ask our congressman to nominate me as 
a candidate for admission to the Naval Acad- 
emy at Annapolis. If he does, I shall take the 
required examinations next April.” 

246 


RUNT’S LAST SHOT 


“Well, well, Estey, this is indeed surprising 
information. So I lose you in the spring, 
do I?” 

“The first examination takes place in 
April, sir, the other in June. Five feet two 
inches is the required height for boys of my 
age. Do you think I ’ll be able to stretch to 
that?” 

“No joking, Estey, please, for — I ’m really 
sorry,” Mr. Freeman said, seriously. “How 
about Charlie; why does he leave?” 

“He is about the store somewhere, sir. Let 
him tell his story; that is what he came in 
to do.” 

“Well, I certainly am sorry, for I always 
thought highly of the boy. By the way, did 
you know I was to be away for the next two 
or three months?” 

“I had n’t heard that news, sir,” Runt re- 
plied with surprise. 

“Yes, Bourne will look after things in my 
absence, and post you as to the advertisements. 
Mrs. Freeman and I start for Europe shortly. 
We had planned such an outing last spring, but 
that dreadful Titanic disaster was so great a 
shock to her that she at once abandoned all 
thought of such a trip until within the last week 
or two — Ah, here is our other sea rover. 

247 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


Step into the private office, Charlie, my boy; 
I want a heart-to-heart talk with you.” 

Runt at once entered the main office, and 
his heart-beats quickened when the cashier 
handed him an envelope which bore in one cor- 
ner the picture of a bluebird. He knew it 
would tell him about a short story he had sub- 
mitted in a contest, and even his hands trembled 
as he opened it, and the sight of a check added 
to his excitement. The letter was brief : 

“Dear Sir: 

“The manuscript entitled ‘Captain Dow’s 
Undoing,’ received from you during our 
recent contest, was found very interesting, 
and we are pleased to inform you that it has 
been awarded one of the prizes. You will 
please find herewith our check for fifty 
($50) dollars. 

“We take upon ourselves the work of 
shortening the article and making a few 
changes deemed necessary, to be in line with 
our aim towards originality and variety. 

“We are in need of good, strong sea sto- 
ries, and shall be glad to give your work 
careful consideration. 

“Sincerely yours, 

“The Blue Bird Publishing Co.” 

248 


RUNT’S LAST SHOT 


“Gee, whiz!” Runt shouted in his joy. 
“Yep, beyond doubt they ’ll see more of my 
work. But this must be my secret. I ’ll cash 
the check at once, as per their order, but I ’ll 
not use a cent of it, for Christmas is coming, 
and the money and the letter will be my present 
to marm. All is — can I keep it a secret, for I 
just feel like telling everybody!” 

“Have you seen Powers?” the cashier 
called, pleasantly. 

“No, not yet. What about Joe, any- 
way?” 

“It ’s a discovery he made here Wednesday 
morning. A New York drummer came in with 
his samples of gents’ furnishings, and during 
his stay Powers decided that you and the drum- 
mer closely resemble each other, and I agree 
with him, for as you smiled just a moment ago, 
you two certainly do look alike.” 

“Is that so? What was the drummer’s 
name?” 

“We do n’t know. The moment he had 
gone Powers thought of that and tried to find 
the card he gave Mr. Bourne, but he could n’t.” 

“That ’s too bad,” Runt said, disappoint- 
edly. “Will he come again, do you think?” 

“O, yes ! He told Mr. Freeman his regular 
Boston day. but added that he ’d surely drop in 
249 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


on his return from down East, as he would be 
anxious to know how we liked his goods.” 

“I ’m glad of that, for I ’d like to meet 
that man, and no mistake. If I ’m out when 
he comes. Miss Hyde, be sure and make him 
wait, won’t you, especially if you find that his 
name is Wyn” — 

“Hard up, there I Hard up I” 

Walt Marvin called sharply to two clerks 
who were carrying a table in the main aisle. 
A change was being made, and as they passed 
him, the foremost walking backward, Marvin 
saw that two other clerks, also bearing a table, 
had turned out of a side aisle, and that a col- 
lision was imminent. 

“Hard up,” mused Runt, in surprise, as he 
turned back to his desk. “That rings true, sure 
thing; that very ring and shout proves that 
Marvin has been a sailor, does n’t it?” 

As Runt had persistently avoided contact 
with the man, he now for the first time, per- 
haps, saw Marvin in his true light, all anima- 
tion, vigor, and earnestness. 

“Gee, whiz ! he positively is just such a chap 
as dad is looking for. He ’s tall, slim, catlike 
in his actions; his gray eyes fairly snap, and too 
he ’s some older than dad! Yes, he ’s ‘Bones’ 
to a dot, from the ground up, and I ’m the 
250 


RUNT’S LAST SHOT 


dullest chap that ever happened! The idea, 
and I the one who was to make things happen 1 

“Marvin,” he called, as a sudden inspira- 
tion came to him, “what does ‘Hard up’ 
mean?” 

“What do you want to know for?” asked 
the salesman, tersely, as he approached the 
railing about the main office. 

“How would it do for the headline to an 
ad?” Runt asked, quietly. “Hard up, and then 
I could say something about steering to Free- 
man’s.” 

“It would n’t do at all,” was the disdainful 
answer. “ ‘Mind your helm’ would be better. 
Mind your helm and steer a straight course to 
Freeman’s, that would mean something!” 

“Gosh, that sounds well, too! Were you 
ever a sailor?” Runt asked, calmly. 

“Was I ! Well, I guess yes! Why, I could 
handreef — yes, I could steer ship before I was 
anywhere near as old as you are !” 

“O, come off, Walt!” the manager said, 
jokingly, for a number of the men had gathered 
about and were listening intently. “Give the 
boy a straight tip ; his question was fair enough. 
What does ‘Hard up’ mean — do you know?” 

“Of course I know,” fumed Marvin. 
“Hang it all. Bourne, do you take me for a 
251 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


colossal liar? ‘Hard up’ is when your helm is 
put as near the wind as possible, so that the 
vessel’s head will swing into the wind. There 
you are, Bourne; I guess that proves even to 
you that I know something about nautical mat- 
ters ! Why, until I came here, half my life has 
been spent aboard ship. I ’ve sailed every one 
of the seven seas, and I ’ve been shipwrecked 
more times than any other living man!” 

“Thrown overboard, too, maybe,” sug- 
gested one of the salesmen dryly, and as the 
men laughed derisively, he added:, “Come now, 
Walt, tell it straight, were you ever swallowed 
by a whale?” ’ 

“O, get out of my way 1” stormed Marvin, 
hurrying away. But he paused to call back: 
“As to whales, Gorham, if you ever saw one, 
even a mile away, you ’d have a fit. I ’ve 
chased scores of them in my time, yes; and 
found the life of scores of them, too!” 

So greatly excited was Runt at this infor- 
mation that he could with difficulty conceal his 
great interest as he looked at Marvin and again 
compared him with Skipper Estey’s description 
of the man ‘Bones.’ 

“That boast makes me more certain than 
ever that I ’m right,” he said to himself. “O, 
if I am right; if only I am! It would help 
252 


RUNT’S LAST SHOT 


repay dad for his kindness to marm and me, 
and there ’d be for me no more Sunday trips 
to New Bedford just to cultivate old-time 
whalers. It is what they call ‘jumping at con- 
clusions,’ but I ’ll hazard a shot anyway I 

“Marvin!” he called; “hold on a moment, 
will you, I ’d like to say something in my ad 
about clothing all mankind. Would it be a 
right expression to use; that is, do all mankind 
wear clothes? How about the cannibals?” 

The uproar this question caused, more thor- 
oughly aroused the demon in Marvin’s nature. 

Rushing back to the railing, he called, 
fiercely, “Look here, you Shorty, what are you 
driving at, anyway?” 

“What ’s wrong about that, Marvin? You 
inferred you had been everywhere; so I asked 
a straight question. Do cannibals wear clothes?” 

The two were looking squarely into each 
other’s eyes, and Marvin, seeing no fun in the 
frank eyes of the boy, answered more quietly, 
“No, they do n’t.” 

“Now for my last shot,” Runt muttered, 
excitedly, then he asked quite calmly, “Do you 
know for a certainty?” 

“Well, I think I ought to know. I was 
right on one of the Fiji Islands for six months 1” 

“Whew!” exclaimed Runt, and none could 

253 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


doubt his intense interest. “More of that, 
please, Marvin. My gracious, man, how did 
you manage to get away?” 

“O, there were two of us,” the salesman 
replied, indifferently, and one day a whaler was 
blown on the beach, but she was worked oft 
at high tide, and that was our chance.” 

Marvin again walked away, this time leav- 
ing Runt Estey the happiest boy in Boston. 

Curbing his feelings as best he could, he 
seized his cap and went out to dash off a tele- 
graph message intended for the master of the 
Fijif which, according to report, was at St. 
John, N. F. The message read: 

“Father, I have found ‘Bones.’ 

“Runt.” 


254 


CHAPTER XXVI 

Gathering Clouds 

“Hello, nevye, how are you I The top o’ 
the morning to you. Ah, but you are up early 
for a city boy!” 

“Rather early for me, yes. Uncle,” Runt re- 
plied; “but I was homesick for a breath of salt 
air, so I got down here along the water-front, 
see? Then, again, I miss Charlie so, and know- 
ing that this is your opening day, I thought I ’d 
breakfast at your place; so here I am, and be- 
sides, Uncle, I ’ve got some questions to ask 
you.” 

“No one will answer them any quicker than 
old Dan, nevye I I ’m glad you came in, be- 
cause you develop into my first customer. 
What’ll ye have — beans and cod?” 

“Not this time. Uncle; boiled eggs first, 
then cod, and I top off with milk and crackers, 
please,” Runt answered, seating himself at a 
table and leisurely scanning the surroundings in 
Cap’n Dan’s new dining-room. 

“I see you brought along that cuckoo clock. 
Uncle,” he said, a few moments later, as the 

255 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


old man emerged from behind the partition, 
bearing his breakfast on a tray. 

“I have, nevye. It makes it look more 
homelike and cozy. I ’ll sit here with you till 
the next customer drops in. How are you, 
nevye, and how does my eating-house look?” 

“Fine ! I like it first rate. It ’s clean and 
ship shape. You ’ll do a good business all right, 
when the folks around here get on to the new 
order of things. Say, uncle, what was the 
name of the steamer you were on that ran into 
a schooner off — ” 

The door opened, and as the old man 
rushed toward the newcomer he called eagerly : 
“Hello, Lincoln! Come in, son — come in till 
I show you this other lad. Runt Estey ! Nevye, 
this is my boy, and he ’s an able-looking lad, 
now, isn’t he? You see, nevye, how I can 
bring up a boy, for I ’ve had him all to myself 
ever since he was six years old, when his mother 
took sick and died. Of coure, he followed the 
sea. He ’s been twice around the Horn and 
back by way of Good Hope. He ’s traded in 
ev’ry port south of the equator and in the West 
Indies, but a fall from the masthead of the 
Rachel M. Cleveland cost him his right arm; so 
now he ’s working here in Boston.” 

“I ’ve heard of you, all right, Estey,” the 
256 


GATHERING CLOUDS 


son said, heartily, “and I ’m glad of a chance 
to shake hands with you. Say, father, can you 
let me have a little money this morning? I 
need some in the worst way; that ’s why I ’m 
here so early.” 

“How much, Lin?” Captain Ellis asked, 
cautiously. 

“Only sixty-five dollars ! See, I Ve got 
thirty-five of my own. I need one hundred. I 
do n’t simply want it, father — I need it. I can 
pay it back at ten per cent interest within a 
month. How is it, yes or no?” 

“I can’t help you, son. When it comes right 
down to ready money, what with buying the 
eating-house and getting fixed up, I ’m nigh as 
stranded as a monk fish. I wish I could, if you 
need it, but I can’t.” 

“Could n’t you borrow it, father — a loan on 
the fixings here. It ’s only for a few weeks,” 
the son pleaded. 

Captain Ellis hesitated. “I ’d not like to 
do that, Lin; this is all I have now, you know, 
and if it should turn out a matter of no trade, 
my old heart will beat quicker at knowing it ’s 
mine clean! No dead horse to pay for, see? 
No loan, no mortgage, no nothing — mine, all 
mine I” 

Runt had been an interested listener. He 

n 257 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


saw the troubled look on the face of his aged 
friend, and partly because of the lost arm he 
felt sorry for the son, so he said to him: 

“I happen to have a fifty-dollar bill with 
me, Ellis, and it ’s my own money, too. You 
and I are strangers, but if your father says it 
is all right to lend it to you for a few weeks, 
I will — that is, of course, if you can raise the 
balance of what you say you need.” 

“There, father,” said Lincoln, gleefully; 
“it ’s up to you now, and surely you are good 
for fifteen dollars! You’ll tell young Estey 
I ’m good at keeping any promise I make, won’t 
you?” 

“I could spare you fifteen, Lin, all right, if 
you need it, and I will. He ’s my son, nevye,” 
added the old captain, proudly, “and that means 
he ’s an honest man! You needn’t fear trust- 
ing him.” 

Rejoiced at being able to render a service 
to one so near and dear to the quaint, whole- 
hearted old man whom he so truly admired. 
Runt took from his pocket the fifty-dollar bill 
received from the bank the day he presented 
the Blue Bird check for that amount. 

“I ’m glad to be able to make the loan, 
Ellis,” he said, lightly. “It is n’t often I get 
a chance to do such things, though — Good 
258 


GATHERING CLOUDS 


gracious, Uncle,” he called to the captain, who 
had gone into the kitchen, “is your cuckoo clock 
right?” 

“Yes, nevye, the cuckoo is just right I I 
tinkered on it myself yesterday. It ’s nigh on 
to eight calls, sure !” 

“Then fly I must,” said Runt. “Good-day 
to you both !” 

“So long, Estey,” Lincoln said, gripping 
Runt’s hand. “You ’ve been to me the friend 
in need.” 

“You ’re just a minute or so too late, Es- 
tey,” Mr. Gorham exclaimed as Runt entered 
the store, some fifteen minutes later. 

“Too late for what?” 

“Why, to see that little New York drum- 
mer Joe calls your double.” 

“Odd how I miss that man, is n’t it?” said 
Runt, laughingly. “Never mind, though, I ’ll 
catch him yet.” 

Hurried footsteps approaching interrupted 
them, and they turned to see the manager, who 
called, without slackening his pace: 

“Just got in, Estey?” 

“Yes, sir,” Runt answered. “I was a little 
behind time; so, to make up for it, I stopped 
at the newspaper offices to get papers that will 
help me out with my Friday ad.” 

259 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


“Come on,” called Mr. Bourne. “A queer 
thing happened, Estey. I was eating breakfast, 
as usual, when all of a sudden I remembered 
leaving the cash box out when I locked the 
vault last night. I did n’t stop to eat after that, 
you may believe. As luck would have it, a big 
loaded wagon broke down on the bridge, and 
the cars were held up for nearly half an hour. 
Who took these covers off?” he called loudly, 
as they reached the display counters near the 
private office. 

No one answered, and in desperation the 
manager unlocked the vault and tossed open 
the inner doors. 

“I knew it I” he exclaimed, angrily. “I 
knew I did n’t put it in this vault ! It was 
certainly all-lired careless of me!” 

Then he called loudly : 

“I want ev’ry man and boy in the store to 
come here I Gorham, lock that door, will you.” 

Seating himself on the bundle counter, he 
scanned each one closely as the employees lined 
up before him. 

“All here but Miss Hyde. Well, she is n’t 
in this thing, anyway. Boys, it ’s this way. I 
was mighty careless last night. Just as I started 
to put the books away. Miss Hyde handed me 
the money box; there isn’t one of you who 
260 


GATHERING CLOUDS 


has n’t seen that thing at one time or another. 
I had n’t got the vault open, so I turned and 
laid the box on top of that pile of overcoats. 
As I remember it, Faxon, you finished covering 
up alone, and that it was pretty dark here when 
1 was putting up the books. Remember?” 

“That ’s right, Mr. Bourne. It was dark, 
and I covered up out back, but I did n’t go 
near the safe. I kept right in the main aisle 
all the time, and when the work was done I 
took my coat from this bundle counter and 
skipped. This morning I was n’t here half a 
minute ahead of you, was I, Gorham?” he 
asked, appealingly, to the salesman who opened 
the store. 

“That’s so. Bourne; so Faxon has clean 
hands,” Mr. Gorham said, earnestly. “Now, 
for my part, I did n’t come back this way at all 
last night. The sky was cloudy, and when 
Jerome got the gates on, I went home. This 
morning, not until now have I been so far back 
in the store as this. I opened up, the boys, com- 
ing in at the same time as I did. They got 
right at the sweeping and, just as I always do, 
I dug out a place on that job lot counter and 
sat there reading my paper. That ’s a central 
viewpoint, you notice, and I can see from there 
all that ’s doing.” 


261 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


“Did any one else come in?” 

“Yes, at ten minutes of the drummer’s grip 
carrier came in. His orders were to wait for 
his boss, he said, and he waited just five minutes 
when the drummer came. The man said his 
name was Durham. I saw him every moment, 
and I ’m positive he did n’t go over to that 
side of the store. He just strolled along this 
aisle, and when he got to the rear of the store 
he turned to the right and stayed there. To 
get out of the way of the sweepers was his idea, 
I guess. He ’s out of it, all right. Bourne, and 
so am I !” the salesman declared, emphatically. 

“O, yes,” the manager answered, ungra- 
ciously. “They ’re all out of it, ev’ry one ! No 
one saw the box; no one took it; and it ’s silly 
of me to sit here and ask questions I The box 
is gone, that ’s certain, and I do n’t propose to 
put my hand down into my pocket and make 
good the loss to Freeman, even if I am to 
blame for my baby work! Boys,” he said, tilt- 
ing his hat back on his head and assuming an 
air of desperation, “hands up, all of you who 
can say honestly that you neither saw the box 
nor know anything about it!” 

Every hand went up hard and strong. 

“Of course!” Mr. Bourne said, sneeringly. 
“Hold on,” he said, as a sudden thought came 
262 


GATHERING CLOUDS 

to him. “Who swept that side aisle this morn- 
ing?” 

“No one, sir,” the boy Jerome promptly 
replied. “The back of the store is my stunt. 
I always do the main aisle and between the 
tables, but every other morning I skip the two 
side ones. That ’s Gorham’s standing order, 
so we can get done quicker. You can look at 
them now, and you ’ll know that they have n’t 
been swept since yesterday.” 

“Who took off the covers?” 

“I,” Jerome replied, with energy. “I ’ve 
thought of that before, sir. I began back and 
worked my way forward, just as I always do; 
but I ’ve remembered since this thing came up, 
when I got to this overcoat table the cover had 
been taken off and left coiled up on top of the 
pile. I thought at first it was kind of odd. 
Then I concluded some one had forgotten to 
use it last night; so I just took up the coil and 
put it where it belonged.” 

“You didn’t see anything of the box?” 

“No, sir; I didn’t. It wasn’t there no 
more than It’s there now!” Jerome asserted, 
stoutly, and none doubted his sincerity. 

“Where were you, Walt?” Mr. Bourne 
asked, turning to Marvin. 

“O, I ’m not in this thing,” the salesman re- 
263 


ON AND OFF SHORE 

plied, coolly. ‘‘I went out just ahead of Faxon 
last night, and when I came in this morning I 
slipped down into the basement to finish my 
smoke and look over the paper awhile, and you 
were here when I came up just now.” 

“Is that so, Gorham?” Mr. Bourne asked. 

“I guess so,” was the reply. “I do n’t re- 
member noticing Marvin this morning until he 
lined up here with the rest of us.” 

“Ah, here ’s the cashier!” the manager ex- 
claimed as some one came into the vestibule. 

“Let her in, Gorham; but mind you, lock 
that door again!” 

“What’s the matter?” Miss Hyde asked, 
wonderingly, as she approached the group 
gathered about the manager. “You all look as 
if something terrible had happened!” 

“There has; the money box is gone!” said 
Mr. Bourne. 

“Gone? How? When?” 

“Stolen!” 

“Have we been robbed?” 

“Yes, robbed! That’s the very term for 
it!” declared the angry manager; “and, too, by 
one of our own help! But, so help me Julius 
Caesar!” he thundered, bringing his clenched 
hand down on the counter, “I ’ll find the robber, 
and I ’ll find him now!” 

264 


CHAPTER XXVII 


Dark Skies 

“How much money was in that box, any- 
way?” Mr. Bourne asked the cashier. 

Going to her desk and taking a paper from 
the drawer, Miss Hyde read, “Four hundred 
and thirteen dollars and twenty-six cents.” 

The manager whistled loud and long. 
“Didn’t you bank any yesterday noon?” he 
finally asked. 

“Yes, sir; but trade was quite good during 
the afternoon, you remember. But you have n’t 
told me yet how it happened.” 

“I do n’t know myself,” was Mr. Bourne’s 
surly reply. 

Then turning to Runt, he said, “Write a 
notice, Estey, Store not open until lo A. M., 
and paste it outside somewhere.” 

Going to the telephone, he sent an emer- 
gency call, and after he had talked with police 
headquarters he returned to his seat upon the 
bundle counter, and a satisfied look shone in 
his eye. 


265 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


“Boys,” he said, “I ’vc sent for the police. 
Listen, now, for I do n’t care whose corns I 
tread on. There ’s only nine of you in this de- 
partment, and one is a thief — a robber! — a 
miserable, sneaking robber.” He scanned each 
face eagerly, to see who might wince under his 
scathing words. “The police will be here in a 
few minutes, and from the moment they step 
inside that door, I show no mercy I It ’ll be 
State prison for the thief as sure as my name ’s 
Bourne, and there ’s no soft-hearted Freeman 
within miles of us to interfere I Now, once for 
all — ^who took that money? It’s your last 
chance to give it up. You can then step out 
and go where you like. No more will be said 
about it. Now, then, who took the money?” 

Each one before him remained silent and 
white. 

Moments passed, and no word was spoken; 
then the arrival of officers outside broke the 
suspense. 

“Thank goodness!” Mr. Bourne exclaimed, 
with a sigh of relief. “Somebody let them in; 
and from this moment, no mercy for the thief !” 

“Where did all this happen?” asked one of 
the inspectors, when the various stories had 
been told. 

Mr. Bourne led the way to the vault. 

266 


DARK SKIES 


“Where is the cover you put away?’* the 
officer asked Jerome. 

The boy, stooping low, thrust his hand un- 
der the table and took the cover from a narrow 
board fastened to either side. The inspector 
took up the large coil of crimson cambric; then 
he dropped on one knee, looked under the table, 
and examined the little shelf from which it had 
been taken. 

“What’s this?” he asked, rising and pro- 
ducing a tin box the shape and size of a collar 
box. 

“That’s it!” Mr. Bourne cried, gleefully. 
But his joy ended when the inspector removed 
the cover and showed it was empty. 

Standing aloof, the second officer was scan- 
ning each member of the group of employees. 
All were eager. In the faces of some he read 
nervousness, but this he deemed natural. In 
no face could he read the coveted exterior 
signs which might convey to him the informa- 
tion he sought. 

“Some old hand is at this game,” was his 
mental conjecture; “these boys are white!” 

“How many keys are there to your store 
door?” the other inspector asked, as he handed 
the manager the empty box. 

“Four.” 


267 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


^‘Who has them?’* 

“Gorham, because he opens in the morning; 
young Estey, here, is our ad-writer and has one 
because he sometimes is here after we close 
nights; Mr. Freeman has his with him en route 
to Europe, and I Ve got mine!” 

“Did either Gorham or Estey enter the 
store between the time you locked up last night 
and when Graham opened it this morning?” 

“I did not,” Mr. Gorham answered, in firm 
tones. 

Instinctively the eyes of all turned on Runt. 

The boy became ashen. A deathly sickness 
seized upon him, and his limbs seemed about 
to refuse his weight. 

“It ’s no use, Estey. Tell the truth. I saw 
you I” Marvin said, icily. 

“Did you?” the officer asked, speaking 
sharply to the trembling boy. 

Runt hesitated. 

“Come, say something; yes or no?” 

“Yes,” Runt answered. “The moment you 
asked the question I seemed suddenly to realize 
how dark things would look against me, and 
somehow I could n’t speak a word. It all 
flashed on me that I did come back I Yes, sir; 
I did come back. I started to the newspaper 
offices with the ads just as the others began 
268 


DARK SKIES 


closing. When I had finished my rounds, I no- 
ticed the weather, and, believing it would rain, 
I came back for my umbrella.” 

“Where was it?” 

“In the office, sir.” 

“Then you passed right by this table ?” 

“Yes, sir, as near as you are now, surely.” 

“Did you notice that box?” 

“I did not.” 

“Pretty sure, are you?” 

“Positively. It was all-fired dark out this 
way, and all I was thinking of was my um- 
brella.” 

“Well, all right,” said the inspector, as if 
fully satisfied. “Now, who is bookkeeper 
here?” 

“I am, sir; I am also cashier,” Miss Hyde 
answered. 

“Got the number of any of the bills stolen?” 

“No, sir.” 

“Wouldn’t know any one of them again if 
you saw it, I suppose?” 

“Yes, sir; I would know one of them!” 
Then, addressing Mr. Gorham, she said, “You 
remember that torn fifty-dollar bill, do n’t 
you?” 

“I do,” the salesman answered. 

“Then, sir, there are two of us who would 
269 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


know one of the bills that was in the box last 
night,” Miss Hyde said, addressing the in- 
spector. “Mr. Gorham had a good customer — 
some forty-three dollars, I think, it was; any- 
way, he gave a bill that was torn in the lower 
right-hand corner, fully two inches up the side, 
and an inch or more along the bottom. Indeed, 
the tear reminded me of the way the State of 
New Hampshire looks on the map!” 

“Well, well, that’s good!” exclaimed the 
officer. “Was it patched?” 

“No, sir; not then. The customer said that 
he had accidently torn it, and asked if I could 
fix it, and I at once did so.” 

Taking a bill from his pocket, the inspector 
passed it to her, saying: “Tear this as nearly as 
possible like the other one was torn. Then 
I want you to patch it just as you patched the 
fifty.” 

Miss Hyde tore the bill as bidden, and then, 
going to her desk, she repaired it; and return- 
ing it to the officer, said, with decision, “It 
looked exactly like that when I patched it.” 

“All right, miss; thank you! I must say 
you make a fine witness, and this simplifies our 
work.” 

Addressing the manager, he said, “Take 
the notice off the door and go ahead as if noth- 
270 


DARK SKIES 

ing had happened; we ’ll do the rest. Good- 
day, everybody.” 

“How does it look, Hanscom?” asked the 
quiet official, as they stood for a moment in the 
vestibule. 

“I can’t answer until I see it.” 

“Then you intend looking up that bill?” 

“That ’s one way.” 

“The little chap — how about him?” 

“Estey?” 

“Yes.” 

“That is your work; stick to him like a 
brother! Good-day,” and with dignified, sol- 
dierly bearing the noted inspector mingled with 
the throng upon the sidewalk. But the stern, 
set features relaxed a moment as there came 
to him an old-time memory that seemed to con- 
nect with the case in mind. Once again he ut- 
tered, mentally, the old boyhood shout: 

“Snappers are biting!” 


271 


CHAPTER XXVII 


In the Meshes of the Law 

Lincoln Ellis paused. He had reached his 
destination, even stood on the threshold, and 
yet he seemed undecided whether or not to 
enter. 

The room before him was bright and spa- 
cious. Blackboards covered all the walls, and 
on these were chalked numberless names and 
figures — “Quotations” they were; but Lincoln 
was not posted. Long, narrow strips of paper 
were scattered over the richly carpeted floor; 
large, easy chairs seemed to urge the weary to 
rest. A long, wide oak table occupied the cen- 
ter of the room, and at a desk adjoining this 
was a telegraph instrument, and the ceaseless 
click of the ticker seemed to reassure the young 
man. 

“I guess it’s all right,” he muttered, and 
approached the counter. 

The man at the desk came forward briskly. 

272 


IN THE MESHES OF THE LAW 


“I saw one of your private advertisements,” 
Idncoln explained. 

A quick glance only, and the broker knew 
his customer. 

“Ah, yes,” he said, complacently. “You are 
one of those bright young men desirous of lay- 
ing the foundation of a fortune! Well, I can 
assure you, sir, that this opening is the oppor- 
tunity of a lifetime! Not only will it pay big, 
but from the start it will be a colossal success ! 
I Ve been in the business twenty years, and this 
is the best that has ever happened! It is not 
a speculative gamble, mind you, but an invest- 
ment certainty! 

“You will understand I can use no names, 
but I will tell you that a great trust seeks to 
buy out a rival. The little one has rights which 
it is necessary for the larger concern to possess, 
but it can secure these rights only on the quiet, 
you understand, else the little fellows would de- 
mand billions ; whereas, if they can plant down 
a few millions without drawing on their bank- 
ers, and so arousing suspicion, millions will be 
saved; so the purchase money is being collected 
by small contributions, you understand — not 
a one of these big money grabbers can get 
into it! When the lesser company sells to the 
greater one — well, it ’s a sure profit, and a big 

18 273 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


one. Not only are these big returns certain, 
but all contributors will, under the proposed 
conditions of the sale, become shareholders in 
the big trust. You see that from first to last 
this is not a prospect, this is a surety I” 

Lin Ellis was fully convinced and quickly 
handed the glib talker his roll of bills. 

“Two fives, four tens, and a fifty — cor- 
rect,” called the broker, as he tossed the money 
aside with seeming carelessness. 

After the formality of signing a paper, Lin 
returned to his work a very happy man. 

“Even if I have but one arm, I do n’t in- 
tend to spend all my life working for a salary,” 
he muttered, defiantly, stifling memories of the 
tones of his father, who had often assured him 
that prosperity has its price. 

“There is no short cut to riches, son,” the 
old philosopher had assured him. “The road 
is a hard, long one, and it ’s work — work all 
the way!” 

“Click — click — clickety — click,” the tiny 
telegraph instrument continued its clicking until 
the closing hour of the day of Lin’s advent as 
a speculator, and resumed it bright and early 
the next morning. 

“Where are the lambs?” 

Save for the ticker, this outburst from the 
274 


IN THE MESHES OF THE LAW 


broker was the only sound In the office. Sud- 
denly, however, the door opened and a stalwart 
figure entered. 

“How is business, Jenkins?” the caller 
asked, abruptly. 

“Rather quiet this morning,” the broker 
replied, nervously, as he recognized his visitor. 

The soldierly-looking man approached and, 
laying a fifty-dollar bill on the counter, asked 
quietly : 

“Ever seen that before?” 

“Can’t say that I have,” was the reply. 

“Can’t say, or won’t?” was the stern re- 
sponse. 

“O, it is a matter of inability, and not the 
will I” 

“Well, sir, we were laying for this bill at 
all the banks, and Smith was the teller to pinch 
it. He says it accompanied your deposit yes- 
terday afternoon; if you will examine your 
slip you will notice he makes the entry.” 

“I am not denying anything. Inspector. I 
may have handled that bill. What ’s wrong 
about it, anyway?” 

“We want the party that left it here, that ’s 
all.” 

“But, Hanscom, I can’t say any party left 
it here !” the broker declared, emphatically. 

275 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


“O, you can’t eh? Well, Jenkins, maybe 
a little investigation on our part will freshen 
your memory I Been pulling the wool over any- 
body’s eyes lately?” the inspector asked, mean- 
ingly. 

The broker changed his tactics. “Did I de- 
posit it yesterday?” he asked, reflectively. 

“That ’s right.” 

“Well, then, two fifties were brought in 
yesterday, if I remember rightly.” 

“That’s right, describe those customers; 
then I ’ll get out of here quick.” 

“One was an old operator; he dropped in 
at noon. The other — ” 

“A lamb,” broke in the officer. “Who 
was he?” 

The broker went to his desk and returned 
with a written memorandum. “Lincoln Ellis.” 

“At what time was this Ellis here?” 

“During the noon hour.” 

Inspector Hanscom looked disappointed. 
“And the other?” 

“Just ahead of Ellis,” was the reply. 

“Now, which left that bill?” and the tone 
was sharp. 

“Up goes my hand, Hanscom. I swear I 
can not remember. It was a rush hour for me, 
and beyond being sure I had straight bills and 
276 


IN THE MESHES OF THE LAW 


a full count, I took no special notice,” and the 
broker’s hand was raised as if taking an oath. 

“All right, Jenkins; pass over the other 
name, and I ’ll let it go at that.” Receiving 
a second slip, the inspector stepped briskly 
away. 

“Snappers are biting,” he laughed, pleas- 
antly to himself, “and I ’ve got a nice line and 
a strong hook.” 

There was no evidence of his pleasant or 
sentimental nature, however, when, a few min- 
utes later, he stood talking with Lincoln Ellis. 

“I ’ve got nothing to say to you,” Lin de- 
clared, when asked about his dealings with Jen- 
kins and Company. 

“Is that so?” queried the annoyer, quietly. 
“Then, sir, just you put on your hat and coat. 
I want you to take a walk with me.” 

“Who are you, anyway?” Lin asked, de- 
fiantly. 

“Certain people call me Inspector Hans- 
com,” was the quiet reply. 

Lin wilted. “What do you want to know, 
sir?” he asked, meekly. 

“Where you got the fifty-dollar bill you left 
at Jenkins’s bucket-shop yesterday noon.” 

“I can not answer.” 

“Don’t you know?” 

277 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


Lin faltered. It was a direct question and 
demanded a direct answer. He instantly re- 
called that his father had once said, “One lie 
begets another,” and so, to avoid the further 
falsehood, he answered, “I said I can not tell 
you.” 

“Divining his meaning, the inspector said, 
sharply, “You must!” 

“I can not!” 

“Then no more nonsense, sir. Put on your 
things and come with me!” 

“May I go to see my father about this busi- 
ness? His place is on the avenue near the 
South Ferry,” Lin said, meekly. 

“What has he got to do with it?” 

“Everything,” was the decisive reply. 

“Then hustle.” 

Lin, a victim of remorse and fear, obeyed 
the injunction. , 

“I must see you alone, father,” he said, on 
entering the dining-room. “It ’s important.” 

“What is it, son?” the old man asked, anx- 
iously, because of the evident distress of his 
boy. “Come in here,” and he led the way into 
the kitchen. 

“That fifty-dollar bill, sir — the man with me 
is a policeman — there ’s something wrong with 
278 


IN THE MESHES OF THE LAW 


the bill. I refused to say a word either way 
till I saw you. Shall I tell him who gave it 
to me?” 

“Never I” thundered Captain Ellis, forget- 
ful of the caution his son had exercised. 
“Never, Lin I” 

“Well, then, father—” 

“Quite dramatic,” came the cold voice of 
the man who had crossed the dining-room and 
was standing at the door. “But, gentlemen, it 
is needless for either of you to mention the 
name. I know it. The boy dined here yester- 
day noon. We had a man close at his heels, 
and, my aged friend, you perhaps recall thank- 
ing the boy for having loaned money to your 
son. As per his promise to see you at twelve- 
fifteen to-day, he will undoubtedly soon be here 
again. If I choose to wait for him, my greet- 
ing shall be, Estey, how does it happen you 
gave young Ellis this fifty-dollar bill yesterday 
morning?” and the officer displayed the patched 
greenback. 

“You see, Ellis,” he said, mildly, evidently 
being in sympathy with the distress of the older 
man, “a money box was robbed at his place 
night before last. Several hundred dollars 
were taken, and this patched affair has been 
279 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


identified as one of the bills. Estey handed it 
over to your son, as you know. Now, that 
looks bad for him, doesn’t it?” 

The old captain had dropped helplessly into 
a chair. “He never did it?” he repeated over 
and over. “Why, I ’d stake my life on that 
boy’s honesty, as much as on my own boy’s — I 
would! O, Lord, I do almost wish 1 ’d got 
drowned that last time, I do! No, I don’t!” 
he cried out, suddenly. “Policeman, that boy 
saved me, and now I must save him ! He never 
did it, and I know it ! I ’ll save him if it takes 
my last dollar!” 

“This is a mighty unpleasant business, Mr. 
Ellis ; but it ’s all in the line of duty, and must 
be done! We’ll give the boy a chance; for, 
as you know, in the eyes of the law no one is 
guilty until proven so. He must go to head- 
quarters, however, and you may walk up there 
with him, if you like, and fix things up so he ’ll 
not have to go behind iron bars. Come, both 
of you ; have a good look at this bill, will you ? 
Maybe some one gave it to the boy, you know, 
and your identification would help him prove 
his innocence.” 

“I could n’t say,” the old man said, sorrow- 
fully, as he glanced at it. “I did n’t look at the 
280 


LN THE MESHES OF THE LAW 


boy’s money. I only know it was one bill and 
was a fifty.” 

“I do n’t think it was torn like this when 
I had it,” Lin said, earnestly. 

‘‘You don’t think it was?” 

“I don’t— no.” 

“Sure?” 

“No, sir; you see, I was too glad to get 
it — too excited, to pay any particular atten- 
tion.” 

“In court, what would you say?” 

“The same thing, honestly. I could n’t an- 
swer yes or no!” 

“All right. Go back to your work,” said 
the officer, and, extending his hand to the fa- 
ther, he said, earnestly: “I ’ll do my best for 
the youngster, Mr. Ellis. Lots of them go 
wrong at his age. Sudden impulse, you know; 
a temptation, a weak will, and then the crime!” 

“Aye, right,” Captain Ellis said, sadly. 
“It ’s only safe is the castle that ’s never been 
stormed, Mr. Policeman. But nevye never did 
that, and you’ll help him, won’t you?” 

“You have my word for that, sir. Good- 
day!” 

“What a quaint philosopher that grand old 
man is!” he thought, as he passed quickly along 
281 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


the avenue. “Such as he read human nature 
like a book; so it is safe to infer that hereto- 
fore young Estey has been all right. Well, 
snappers are biting I I Ve got a nice line and 
a strong hook, and — minnows. Odd, isn’t it? 
We sacrifice one life to catch another I Yes, 
sure thing, snappers are biting.” 


282 


CHAPTER XXIX 


At the Bar of Justice 

The bright rays of the morning sun came 
streaming through the open chancel, and for a 
time fell across an indescribable array of grave 
and apprehensive faces. As the judge took his 
place and scanned the prisoners in the dock he 
seemed to endeavor to read in each face a life- 
story. Surely the motley group were all classes 
and conditions of men, women, and — alas I — 
boys, among whom, on the furthermost bench, 
sat Runt Estey. 

Many had sown the wind and were now to 
reap the whirlwind. In prompt, skillful manner 
the court meted out justice to whom it was due. 

“Edgar Estey, Junior!” called the clerk, 
and when the deeply agitated boy stood up, the 
complaint against him was quickly read. 

Looking up as he finished reading, the clerk 
asked : 

“Are you guilty or not guilty?” 

With a masterly effort Runt steadied his 
voice and answered, calmly, “Not guilty.” 

283 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


The witnesses were then lined up in a row 
and sworn. 

Mr. Bourne told the story of what he 
termed his “forgetfulness.” 

Miss Hyde testified to the patched bill. 

Then with haughty air Mr. Marvin went 
on the stand and stated that while waiting for 
his car to come along on the evening preceding 
the day the robbery was discovered he had 
seen the prisoner enter the store, remain within 
several minutes, and that on coming out again 
he appeared greatly excited and anxious to 
hasten away. 

“O!” 

A half-stifled cry rang through the court- 
room. 

Runt’s counsel rose quickly and beckoned 
to a court officer as he said, quietly, “Water, 
please !” 

A commotion took place among the assem- 
bled witnesses in the various cases, and speedily 
it seemed as if the entire courtroom would fol- 
low suit, when an officer waved his hand for 
quiet, and, addressing the court, said: 

“She will be all right in a moment. Your 
Honor; it is only a fainting spell.” 

As stately as a statue Marvin still stood on 
the witness stand. His face was stern and set, 
284 


AT THE BAR OF JUSTICE 

showing neither sympathy nor concern, and 
save that his cold, gray eyes seemed to snap fire 
as he looked around, none might guess the vol- 
cano within. 

“Have you anything further to say in re- 
lation to this case?” asked Runt’s attorney. 

“Nothing,” the witness answered. 

“That is all you know about it, is it?” 

“It is.” 

“You may go.” 

Lincoln Ellis took the stand, and despite 
the efforts of both prosecutor and counsel for 
defendant he maintained his former position as 
to his inability to say which of the two fifty- 
dollar bills shown him was the bill loaned him 
by the prisoner. 

Neither could Jenkins, the broker, throw 
any real light upon the matter. 

“Daniel W. Ellis.” 

The old man made a last desperate effort 
to control his feelings and walked slowly to the 
stand. 

“What is your name?’ 

“Daniel Ellis.” 

“Your business?” 

“I keep an eating-house now; in the sum- 
mer I—” 

“Never mind that. You heard the testi- 
285 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


mony given by your son, a previous witness?” 
“I did.” 

“Which of these bills was the one given 
him by the prisoner?” and with a bill laid flat 
in either palm, the assistant district attorney 
approached the witness. 

“If I were to die for saying it,” said the old 
captain, firmly, “I ’d say it wasn’t that one!” 
and he laid his hand on the patched bill. “I 
did n’t ’zactly see the bill at the time son took 
it, seeing it only as son rolled it up on the out- 
side of the ten and five I gave him; but some- 
how I know it was a cleaner bill than that is, 
and so, if it were either of those two, then I 
say ’twas t’other one!” 

Runt’s counsel was well satisfied, especially 
when his opponent’s desperate endeavor to con- 
fuse the old man proved futile. 

Being foiled, the prosecutor said, sharply, 
“Have you anything further to say?” 

“Yes,” said the captain, trembling. “Court, 
may I say a few words on my own account?” 

“Bearing on the case?’ 

“Yes, Court, bearing hard! Only a point 
or so off ’n the wind, I take it.” 

“Be brief.” 

“I ’ll not say a word as to how that boy 
saved my life, though there ’s not a minute I 
286 


AT THE BAR OF JUSTICE 

live I do n’t remember it. Son and he — nevye, 
I call him — have the only two rooms to let in 
my old heart; but, Court, what I want to say 
is this : the slim, lanky witness was n’t honest 
when he said his name was Marvin — that is n’t 
his name I I happen to know, because nigh on 
to fourteen years back I knew him myself. 
I was chef de cook on a steamer, and this man 
and one he told me was his brother were picked 
up off a craft we run into, and bime-by, because 
the collision had hurt our engines, there was 
another accident down Cuttyhunk way, and we 
were hard and fast on the rocks to seaward, 
too far off shore even for the daring life-savers 
to help us, though for hours they tried their 
best in a raging sea. We were all huddled to- 
gether, just waiting, that ’s all, and that witness 
was close up to me, hugging the weather like 
me. His teeth were shut tight, and his eyes 
just rolled around, and I said to myself, ‘He ’s 
a sailor like me.’ 

“Court, did you ever see a big ship pounded 
to pieces in a few hours? That’s what was 
happening to us, and we all seemed doomed to 
be drowned, but the life-saving people went 
along shore with their big boat, and then 
worked to wind’ard, and bime-by they came 
alongside. The captain hollers, ‘Passengers 
287 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


first/ and that man’s brother was called to 
go down the rope into the life-boat. 

“ ‘No baggage I’ shouted our captain; and 
then this man comes along and takes his 
brother’s bag and hollers, ‘Come with me — 
I ’ll get it through, all right.’ ‘How so ?’ says 
I. ‘Look,’ says he, and. Court, to loo’ard was 
a wrecking tug that took this man with the bag, 
and his brother and me at just the moment our 
steamer did exactly what the big Titanic did — ” 

“How does all this bear on the case?” the 
court demanded, yet, not unkindly. 

“Now comes the part bearing on it hard. 
Your Honor,” the captain continued, pathetic- 
ally. “Somehow this man’s brother got a nasty 
crack on the head that nigh killed him — ” 

Again a sharp cry rang through the court- 
room. Every eye bore upon the little woman 
now seated on one of the back seats. 

A moment she faltered, then rushed for- 
ward and dropped on her knees beside Captain 
Ellis. 

“It was my husband! Was he lost? The 
truth, I beseech you!” 

Inspector Hanscom was already at her side. 
Beckoning for a chair, he gently assisted her to 
rise. “Calm yourself, madam,” he said. “This 
will come out all right.” 

288 


AT THE BAR OF JUSTICE 

Hot tears were rolling down the captain’s 
cheeks, and in the intensity of his emotion 
he trembled so violently that a court officer 
promptly placed a chair for him on the witness 
stand. 

. “No, he was n’t lost, madam, but he 
was shanghaied,” he finally found voice to 
answer. 

“Witness,” called the judge quietly, “have 
you any testimony bearing directly on this 
charge of larceny against Edgar Estey, Jun- 
ior?” 

“Yes, Court, I have, the bearings are com- 
ing now!” 

“Well, be brief I” 

Captain Ellis continued in broken tones: 
“You see. Court, I ’d lost all but the clothes I 
wore, and so, when the tug docked us at New 
York, I was willing enough that that other 
witness should take me in tow with his brother. 
He stowed us away for rest while he got a doc- 
tor. Bime-by he come in with him, and the 
brother and me took his medicine. Next you 
know, Court, we two were far out on the ocean, 
bound for Seattle, fourteen thousand miles 
away! We ’d been shanghaied by that witness 
there, who did it so he could run off with the 
bag of money which belonged to his brother, 
289 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


who was going about like one in a dream be- 
cause of that crack on his head. 

“He let me have his gold ticker to fix one 
day just before I took French leave when the 
steamer stopped at Santa Lucia — so I could 
never give it back to him. See, Court?” he 
called, as he removed a watch from his pocket. 

■ “It ’s a pretty good one, I guess. I fixed it up 
and alius wear it with my Sunday clothes.” 

Mrs. Wyndale left the chair that had been 
provided for her, and, stepping to the witness 
stand, took the extended timepiece. 

“Yes, it is my husband’s!” she exclaimed, 
addressing the court; and then, opening the 
case, she added, “and here is my own picture 1 
Edgar,” she called eagerly to Runt, holding it 
for him to view, “this watch belonged to your 
father I” 

“His father!” said Captain Ellis, in aston- 
ishment. 

“Yes,” said the little woman, proudly, 
“that is my boy !” 

“Your boy?” queried the old man in aston- 
ishment. “Well, if— ” 

A sharp rap of the gavel interrupted him. 

“What bearing has all this on the case? 
Have you any further testimony?” 

“Just the last word. Court. That man 
290 


AT THE BAR OF JUSTICE 

did n’t give his right name. He robbed his 
own brother. He shanghaied him and de- 
serted him when he was sick. Would a man 
like that be apt to tell the truth about the lost 
money? That’s what I ask you, Court.” 

“Have you any testimony?” the judge de- 
manded, sternly, evidently believing that in 
humoring the aged witness the case had not pro- 
gressed. 

“Not another word. Court; not another 
word. Only, I ’m sure the boy didn’t do it!” 

“Call the next witness!” 


291 


CHAPTER XXX 


The Witness 

“Good morning, my dear Mr. Powers. 
Where may all the help be, pray? Theatrical 
folks coming in here now would be apt to re- 
mark, ‘Rather a slim house this morning!’ 
And my good friend Bourne, where is he?” 

While speaking, the New York drummer 
had taken his sample grip from his man Dur- 
ham and tossed it upon the counter on which 
usually he displayed his wares, in preparation 
for business. 

“I do n’t know just what I ’d ought to say,” 
Joe began, evidently greatly distressed. “First, 
though, let me tell you there ’s no one here to 
look at your goods ; so do n’t bother to open 
up shop.” 

“Why — ^why — what ’s the matter, my 
friend? Illness — anything contagious, you 
know ?’ 

“No, sir; nothing of that sort. It’s court 
292 


THE WITNESS 


trouble, and, do you know, the poor chap that ’s 
in it is your double — we all think so.” 

“My double I That means, I suppose, he ’s 
just my age, my size — ” 

“No, no! He isn’t your age by a long 
shot. Estey is only a boy, some younger than 
myself, I guess.” 

“Only a boy, my double, and in trouble; 
well, well, I certainly am interested I The boy, 
any boy, has a warm spot in my heart, for I 
once had a boy of my own. I must see this 
double of mine, surely. But tell me, is there 
anything I can do to help him — for the sake 
of the resemblance, you know?” 

Powers briefly reviewed the case for him, 
closing by saying: 

“They tell me, sir, that both you and your 
man were in the store the morning the loss 
was discovered. I was n’t here that day at all, 
because I was having a little vacation.” 

“I, here? Be explicit, please, my dear 
Powers. I am a good listener!” 

Such he proved to be, as was also the grip 
carrier, Durham, who exclaimed, earnestly, as 
Joe ended: 

“Step this way, please, for I want to be cer- 
tain of my ground, as I may have to go to 
court, and those little green bag carriers try 

293 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


their best to get a witness in trouble. Ah, here 
we are. I recall the whole scene now. On this 
pile the box was left — was n’t it?” 

“Yes, sir,” Joe answered, in surprise. 

“Exactly. Right here !” Mr. Dunham ex- 
claimed, slapping his hand upon the pile of 
overcoats. “A tin box, wasn’t it? Trifle 
larger than a collar box, perhaps?” 

“Yes, sir; that’s just right. Then you 
saw it?” 

“Exactly. Now then, who is this tall, slim, 
oldish man — wears a grayish suit?” 

“Walt Marvin! Did he take it?” 

“Exactly. I stood over in that corner — 
see?” He indicated a position in the rear of 
the store. “I went there to be out of the way 
of the sweepers and had just opened my paper 
when that man came in. He went down cellar, 
but almost immediately returned and walked 
along that side aisle. The other salesman had 
been sitting over under that skylight. A cus- 
tomer came in, and he crossed over to where 
your goods are. The slim Jim stopped by that 
bundle counter, then came over here towards 
the safe. I remember now that he looked 
around quickly, but I wasn’t within his range — 
that post was between us. He first stopped 
about here, and I vum from here he could see 
294 


THE WITNESS 


the box easily, could n’t he? It was grand lar- 
ceny, and I witnessed it I I saw him go quickly 
and take the box, and then he stooped over with 
it. I thought at the time it was his dinner box, 
and that probably he had forgotten it the night 
before. He then took off the cover that was 
on these goods and, after rolling it over his 
arm, left it — right there,” and Mr. Durham 
indicated the place. 

Joe Powers grasped his arm eagerly. 

“Will you come and tell that in court?” he 
pleaded. “Runt Estey has been a good friend 
to me even when Freeman and everybody else 
was against me ! O, can’t you hurry to court?” 

“I will, Mr. Powers; simple justice de- 
mands it. Yes, certainly I ’ll go; that is, if the 
boss will let me off.” 

“Go ahead, Durham,” said the drummer, 
quickly. “By all means go, and you ’ll certainly 
save the boy. Never mind the bag — I ’ll see to 
that myself, and after I get through with that 
Tremont Street concern I ’ll drop in on you at 
the courthouse. I ’m interested in this affair, 
and besides it gives me a chance to scan my 
youthful likeness. You two had better start 
at once, so as to post his counsel before the 
defense begins.” 

Mr. Faxon, who had been an interested 
295 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


listener to the conversation, held out his hand 
to the drummer as he prepared to go. “It ’s 
a clear piece of evidence,” he said, joyfully. “I 
knew Estey was innocent ! I knew it ! Bourne 
is all right, but in this thing he got hot-headed 
and stubborn. He had vowed to punish the cul- 
prit, so that even when it looked like Estey, 
he had to do it; that’s all.” 

“I ’m sorry it happened so,” said the drum- 
mer, feelingly. “Yet all of us are liable to 
make bad mistakes, you know. But I ’ll get 
to court in an hour if I can, and I ’ll endeavor 
to fix matters O. K. between the manager and 
the boy. Good-day, my friend.” 

“That Durham is a jewel, and no mistake I” 
said Faxon to himself, because there was no 
one else near to share his pleasure. “His story 
will end Marvin’s career here, all right, and 
there ’ll be neither flowers, music, nor tears!” 


296 


CHAPTER XXXI 


Something Doing 

With the testimony of the two inspectors, 
the prosecution rested its case. 

With a deep sigh of relief Marvin had left 
the stand. He had espied in the room a noted 
criminal lawyer whose services he had secured 
at the time of his arrest for selling lottery 
tickets, and as he seated himself aloof from the 
other witnesses, he beckoned the great man to 
his side. 

“Booth,” he whispered, “I do n’t like the 
looks of things ; there are people here who have 
no special love for me, so that I may get tangled 
up here somehow. I do n’t know how this thing 
may turn. I want you to see me through. It 
means a hundred to you — ^will you do it?” 

“That’s not enough!” was the blunt an- 
swer. 

“How much?” Marvin asked, anxiously. 

“Five,” was the laconic response. 

“You ’ll see me through clear?” 

“I will leave no stone unturned.” 

“Whatever happens?” 

297 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


‘Whatever happens I” 

“It ’s yours I” Marvin exclaimed, thrusting 
forth a hand to seal the compact. But, as if 
the act were unseen, the lawyer ignored it. 

“Anything special you want to say to me?” 
he asked. 

“Yes, I ’d like you to end this case up 
quick.” 

“Do n’t let them put on the woman who 
fainted or the chap that young fellow intro- 
duced to the boy’s lawyer, for he was in the 
store when it happened, see?” 

“The boy didn’t do it?” 

“No.” 

“Who did?” and as he spoke the lawyer 
looked Intently into the depths of the gleaming 
eyes of his client. 

“That ’s different,” was Marvin’s reply. 

Runt’s lawyer was on his feet in an Instant, 
satisfaction flashing in his eye, although his ut- 
terance was calm and deliberate. 

“We have but one witness. Your Honor,” 
he said, and then quietly called, “Frank Dur- 
ham I” 

Runt showed great surprise. What could 
this Mr. Durham, a total stranger, know about 
the matter? What had Joe Powers to do with 
it? There he had sat beside Mr. Gorham, his 
298 


SOMETHING DOING 


face aglow, earnestly conversing. Then Gor- 
ham had leaned over and whispered a few 
words to Runt’s mother, who had been given 
a seat among the witnesses. What did it all 
mean? Runt wondered; yet a strange peace 
stole over him. 

Mr. Booth came and whispered earnestly 
with young Mr. Holbrook, Runt’s counsel, and 
there quickly seemed a mutual understanding 
between them. Then the former arose. 

“Your Honor,” he said, with slow delibera- 
tion, “it will not be necessary to hear even this 
one witness. I have just been appointed junior 
counsel for defendant. Outside of this case 
I have another client — a man singularly af- 
flicted, though fortunately the attacks are not 
of frequent occurrence. There are times when 
he seems compelled by a fierce Inner Influence 
to take up and conceal articles of value that 
belong to other people. In brief, Your Honor, 
my client Is an unwilling thief! 

“Unfortunately the money box now before 
us came under his eye at a moment when he 
was seized with one of these overpowering at- 
tacks. 

“I ask that the prisoner at the bar be dis- 
charged, for my client will here and now con- 
fess to the act of purloining the money In ques- 
299 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


tion. Further, Your Honor, he will return the 
money taken; will settle all costs in any way 
connected with the trial, and will make all 
possible amends to the defendant?” 

“The name!” called the court. 

A wave of the great lawyer’s hand and, 
with a long-drawn sigh of relief, Walter Mar- 
vin arose. 

“The shrewdest game I ever heard of,” he 
thought; “a wee bit of nerve now on my part, 
and I squeeze out all right. A tight squeeze, 
though, and no mistake.” 

“Step down a moment,” said the lawyer, 
addressing Mr. Durham, who had taken the 
witness stand. 

“Come forward!” he called to Marvin, 
and with unfaltering step the order was obeyed. 

“What is your name?” he was asked, as 
again he faced the bench. 

“Walter Roseland Ames.” 

“That is your correct name?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Any aliases?” 

“Yes, sir; I was a sailor for years, and 
most of them change names at almost every 
port, you know,” the witness answered, easily. 

“What are some of the names by which you 
have called yourself?” 

300 


SOMETHING DOING 


“Richard Roseland and Walter Marvin. 
My mother’s name was — “ 

“Roseland and Marvin, eh; is that all?” 

“I think so; yes.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I think so; yes.” 

“Under what name did you purchase stock 
at the Jenkins Company brokerage?” 

“My own name, Walter Ames.” 

“Now, sir, give the court a free and full 
confession of this latest violent attack of your 
disease.” 

In full keeping with the events of that 
morning as related to Joe by Mr. Durham, 
Marvin told his story. There was no quality 
of repentance in his utterance. It was simply 
a matter-of-fact business statement, and at its 
conclusion Runt Estey, honorably discharged, 
rushed about the courtroom shaking hands 
alike with friends, lawyers, and officers, and, 
were it possible, even with more fervor than 
the boy had greeted his mother he clung to old 
Captain Ellis. 

A new charge was immediately made in the 
case, with Walter Ames as respondent. His 
case was continued one week, in order for the 
court to give it full consideration, and, await- 
ing a bondsman whom he said he would sum- 
301 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


mon, he was hurried through the prisoner’s pen 
to the Tombs, to await transportation in the 
van to the jail. 

As he stood, a prisoner, just within the 
little gate through which Runt had just emerged 
with all the joy of freedom, Marvin, or Ames, 
beckoned to the great lawyer. 

“Do this thing up quickly,” he said. “Get 
Estey and his lawyer, the old white-haired fel- 
low and Bourne, and come over to the Tombs. 
We can fix this thing up in ten minutes, before 
I get sent back to jail again — I had enough of 
that place the last time I was there.” 

The lawyer hastened away. Those he 
sought were clustered together in the corridor, 
just behind an elevator. 

Runt’s mother was saying, brokenly, to 
Captain Ellis: “You knew my husband. You 
were kind to him, O, so kind! I feel, too, 
that your evidence alone would have saved my 
boy, to whom you have been more than kind. 
You say you are a poor, lonely old man. 
Never, never say that again, please, for from 
this moment our home shall be your home, and 
I shall be a daughter to you. Will you let me 
be a daughter? Lucy is my name. Call me 
Lucy, and I will call you father!” 

The tears streamed down his cheeks as, 
302 


SOMETHING DOING 


bending over, the trembling old man kissed the 
quivering lips of the little woman and mur- 
mured softly, “I ’m more ’n willing to have a 
real home in this my old age, and God be 
praised for it all — my daughter, Lucy!’’ 

“Father!” 

As his mother uttered the word, Runt 
gripped the hand of the old salt, exclaiming, 
earnestly: “O, but this is jolly! From now on 
you will be my gran’dad, and I ’ll be proud of 
you, gran’dad; I will, honest! What a day 
this is! Something doing ev’ry minute!” 


303 


CHAPTER XXXII 

Fair Play 

Awaiting an opportune moment, Marvin’s 
lawyer addressed the little group, saying, com- 
placently: “My client has a few explanations 
to make to certain members of this party. Will 
you all accompany me to the Tombs, where 
he is now waiting?” 

“No, sir; we won’t do it!” Mr. Bourne 
stormed. “We ’re all right where we are, and 
besides I ’m the one that ’s waiting to make 
explanations, and I ’m going to make them to 
young Estey. As to Marvin, I want no talk 
with him at all. At the store that morning I 
vowed I ’d show no mercy, and I vow that hits 
him harder than anybody else!” 

“Quietly, my friend,” Inspector Hanscom 
said, firmly. “We ’d better all go over there 
while he ’s in the hu'mor to talk. You lead the 
way. Booth; the rest of us will pair off and 
follow.” 

Linking arms familiarly with the manager 
as the group started, he said, pleasantly: “Look 

304 


FAIR PLAY 


here, Bourne, this has been a bad piece of work 
all around. Be sensible, man, and do n’t make 
things any worse than they are I I ’m not in 
the least surprised at the developments to-day, 
so far as your money box is concerned, for it 
tallies with my reason for urging you not to 
push matters, because, after finding that this 
man Marvin and the man Ames that dealt with 
Jenkins were one and the same, I felt pretty 
certain if only we gave him rope enough we 
would yet bring the larceny right up to him, 
although he ’s a deep one, and no mistake. 
Well, here we are now. Again I say to you, be 
sensible !” 

“Bourne,” said Marvin, eagerly, the mo- 
ment he was brought among the group in the 
keeper’s office, “if I make good the amount 
taken, will you drop the case against me?” 

“You remember what I said, Marvin,” Mr. 
Bourne replied, vindictively. “You were all 
there before me when I said it: ‘Own up now, 
or take the consequences’ — and I meant it, too.” 

“You mean you won’t pull out?” 

“That ’s it exactly.” ' 

“Then I ’ve got no more to say to any one. 
Take me back to my den.” 

“See here, Mr. Bourne,” exclaimed Runt, 
earnestly; “fair play every time in every case, 

20 305 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


I say. There ’s a good deal at stake in this 
matter — more than you have any idea of. You 
have lost nothing or endured nothing. Surely, 
if I ’m willing to meet Marvin half way, you 
ought to be !” 

“The boy has the right idea. Bourne,” the 
inspector said. “Fair play all around. I want 
to hear this fellow talk. It will pay you to 
drop it for the return of the money. Be sen- 
sible — else, no doubt, you ’ll lose your cash.” 

“How do I know we ’ll get it?” the man- 
ager asked, in surly tones. 

“I will guarantee that you do,” Mr. Booth 
replied, and speedily a paper dictated by Mar- 
vin was signed by Mr. Bourne. 

“Now, to settle another point,” said the 
dictator, easily; “you remember me, do n’t you, 
Mrs. Wyndale?” 

“I do, yes; I have been waiting a chance 
to ask you about my husband.” 

“I ’ll get to that pretty soon — do n’t hurry 
me. I ’ll begin at the beginning of my woes 
and tell you all that when I was a youngster 
afloat, learning that a shipmate had valuable 
mining papers, I ransacked his dunnage and 
took them. That was my first false step, and 
from that moment I ’ve never known real peace. 

“My young life, Hanscom, was spent down 
306 


FAIR PLAY 


on my uncle’s farm in Oxford County, Maine, 
where this boy. Runt, was born. The place 
was n’t big enough for me. I wanted to see 
the world, so I went to sea and eventually 
learned that old-time whaling just suited me. 
But after I ’d stolen those papers, of course 
there was nothing for me to do but skip. 
Knowing that the chap I had robbed was a 
born sea dog, I had to keep off salt water for 
fear of meeting him, for I ’ve found out that 
this is but a mighty small world after all, and 
at any time, almost, somebody you knew some- 
where else is sure to bob up; and so I kept 
ashore, but, to be near salt water, I stuck to 
Boston. 

“The papers taken were a chart and right 
to a mine; so, being sure I was pretty safe in 
doing so, I went up Klondike way and located 
it. Believing that the mine would prove a 
bonanza, I hustled back to see folks I had 
known in New England, to get money to push 
things. 

“Estey, right here your father comes in. 
It ’s human nature to be anxious to take chances, 
and he proved an easy mark for me, and soon 
away we went. Next came the crash off High- 
land Light, and I had always believed, Mrs. 
Wyndale, that you and the baby went down. 

307 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


“Estey, do you remember that day in the 
store when you jumped on me, both hands up?” 

“I do,” replied Runt, coldly, for despite 
his recent plea for fair play, it seemed to him 
that Marvin was a cold-blooded villain. 

“Yes, I guess you all do,” the prisoner 
continued, as he saw the exchanged glances be- 
tween Powers, Gorham, and Miss Hyde. “But 
not a one of you could know why I jumped 
back. Jason Wyndale, your father, Estey, once 
ran at me just that way! It was after the 
collision. Jason told me to wait with your 
mother and you, and hold the boat while he 
went back to your cabin for his money bag. 
But I felt certain the schooner was going fast, 
and fearing that Jase, who knew nothing about 
ships, would get mixed up and lost, I chased 
after him. He steered a straight course for 
the cabin, gripped his bag, turned to come back, 
but when he saw me he leaped right at me 
exactly as you did. Naturally you startled me, 
but I quickly concluded you must in some way 
be related to Jason Wyndale, and it was to 
cultivate you and find out just who you were 
that I moved over from Shawnut Avenue. 

“Now, Mrs. Wyndale, Jase and I both 
went down with the wreck, but each of us was 
at home in the water, and as there was plenty 
308 


FAIR PLAY 


of wreckage to cling to, we easily kept afloat 
till picked up by the steamer’s boat. That 
shoulder-strap on the bag enabled Jase to re- 
tain what he ’d taken such big chances to se- 
cure, for, of course, it hung to him. 

“This old fellow, Ellis, told it straight 
about my having Jase and him shipped when 
drugged. I wanted that money, and I hung to 
the bag; but. Inspector, so help me God, not 
one cent of its contents have I ever touched! 
In fact, I could n’t, for Jase’s face always 
seemed to rise before me threateningly — the 
thing seemed haunted — that ’s the long and the 
short of it, and so sure was I of this that years 
ago I stowed the thing away in the bottom of 
my trunk, hoping some day I ’d get over the 
feeling. It ’s there to-day, Hanscom, and so 
are the mining papers, although they are worth- 
less now. 

“As to Jase, Mrs. Wyndale, I know noth- 
ing after having him shipped as a drunken 
sailor whose head was cut during a brawl. You 
see, the shipping office found it hard to get 
men willing to take such a beastly long trip, 
so the steamer people had to take unwilling 
ones. The chap I sprung on him as a doctor 
knew a little about the business, and he told 
me Jase’s head injury was pretty serious. I 

309 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


took a few trips to Samarang, and then got 
scared off the sea by one day seeing the ship- 
mate from whom I took the mining papers. 

“Now then, it ’s only for you people to 
keep mum about these past acts, and I can get 
out of this last scrape easy. All I ask of you 
is to give me a chance. I want to be free, and 
with all these little matters off my mind, I can 
go afloat again.” 

Then addressing the inspector, he said : 
“Hanscom, this thing is fair enough, isn’t it? 
You take my keys and get the things. I make 
full restitution — these folks keep mum, and I 
flit. But, if you like, you can have a string to 
pull me back again if ever I go wrong. All 
I ask is just what Estey was asking for a 
while ago — fair play.” 

“It looks all right on the face of it,” said 
the inspector, rising, “but we ’ll investigate a 
little, and if all turns out as you say, perhaps 
these people won’t appear against you. Mean- 
while you ’ll stay down there in Charles Street 
for the week, and Booth will keep you posted 
as to our doings.” 

Turning to the deeply interested group, he 
added: “There ’s no further call for us to re- 
main now. Let it be understood, though, that 
310 


FAIR PLAY 


this larceny case will be called just one week 
from to-day, and that at eight o’clock sharp 
we are all of us to meet here in this office.” 

As the party dispersed, Inspector Han- 
scom returned to headquarters, musing happily, 
“Snappers are biting, and this is fishing!” 


311 


CHAPTER XXXIII 


Relentless Davy Jones 

“Call me, Jim, if there ’s any change in the 
force or direction of the wind!” 

As he gave the order. Skipper Estey went 
below. 

“Well, Squid, boy, we ’re making for 
home!” he said, cordially, as he entered the 
forecastle. “Her head is to’ard Gloucester, 
and she ’s running before a howling nor’easter. 
We ’ve just double-reefed the mains’l, for that 
big lurch she made a while ago sent the main- 
boom under clean to the slugs!” 

“It made things lively in here now, you 
bet,” laughed Charlie. “About a barrel of 
water came down the companion way, fairly 
swamping the boots that were lying about on 
the floor, to say nothing of the men in the lee 
bunks. They ’re all in by the galley fire now, 
drying up, and still saying things, I guess.” 

Skipper Estey laughed heartily. “It ’s a 
part of the life, lad,” he said, pleasantly. “A 
part of the life. It ’s blowing big guns, and 
312 



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THE RAGING SEA 












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0 




RELENTLESS DAVY JONES 

the sea is sharp and choppy ; so no doubt she ’ll 
continue to lurch for awhile, and I ’ve been 
wondering, lad, how you like this taste of the 
real thing in weather?” 

“It’s all right, Cap’n, ev’ry bit of it!” 

“Then you are not homesick?” 

“Well, I guess not, sir! My watch next, 
you know ; and I ’ll be right glad to get on 
deck again, for I want to look on some of 
these big seas the men are telling about!” 

“How high are they getting them?” and 
the skipper grinned as he tossed aside his red 
jacks and glistening oil-skins. 

“Fifty to sixty feet, sir. Gee !” 

“They let you off easy. Squid,” the skipper 
chuckled. “To a green hand they gener’ly make 
them one hundred at least; but, pshaw! even 
fifty is all talk. Waves do n’t run that high, 
lad. Not in these latitudes, anyway. Under 
unusual conditions a forty-footer may perhaps 
be encountered, but such cases hereabout are 
rare, I reckon. 

“A big winter-gale, lad, may turn up watery 
furrows of thirty feet from foot to head, but 
there ’s nothing in the ordinary storm that dis- 
turbs old ocean enough to get even a twenty- 
foot heave to the water. 

“Watch them closely for yourself during a 

313 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


hard blow that ’s been howling around for sev- 
eral days, and you ’ll notice waves run in series, 
with their crests probably at something like 
half a mile intervals; but, bless your heart, 
there ’s alius a collection of lesser rollers be- 
tween them, and any one of these is enough 
to keep the shrewdest skipper guessing as to 
what ’ll happen next. 

“Hi, there, ‘Rastus!’ ” he bellowed into the 
galley. “Where ’s that coffee I was to have, 
you lubberly loafer? And don’t forget there 
are two of us in here, and bring along the pie !” 

Charlie had tumbled from his bunk and 
was prepared to go on deck when the cook ap- 
peared, bearing mugs of steaming coffee and a 
huge apple-pie. 

“Think the gale’ll las’ long, massa?” he 
asked, meekly, as he placed the tray on the 
table. 

“Yes, I do; confound you!” thundered the 
skipper. “It ’s the storm you predicted would 
last four days,” he added, as a sneer curled his 
lip. Then turning to Charlie, he continued : 

“That fellow is forever prophesying, lad, 
and, ’pon my word, it ’s alius something ‘dref- 
ful,’ as he says it. I wonder why I hang to 
him as I do.” 

“I had a bad dream las’ night, mas — ” 

314 


RELENTLESS DAVY JONES 

“Git I” roared the skipper, as, leaping from 
his seat, he seized his boots and hurled them 
after the fleeting “doctor.” 

“A bad dream, eh?” he laughed, as he again 
seated himself at the table. “He probably had 
me in the clutches of a certain chap named 
Jones. Ha, ha, ha! But he’s a good cook 
all the same, and since I got him no man under 
me has had any kick coming about food. Food, 
good and plenty, is an important thing on a 
fishing schooner, lad, and ‘Rastus’ knows his 
business. Five meals a day per man comes 
high; but, bless you, they all work the better 
for it. I wonder what the fellow dreamed 
last night. Ha, ha, ha — Sho! that was a 
lurch! Gene is on watch with Jim, however; 
so we ’re as safe as we ’d be in a snug harbor. 
A clever hand at sailing a craft is Gene Paul, 
and I ’m right glad you two froze to each 
other, lad, for he ’s a fine teacher. I like him 
better than any other man I ever came across; 
so well, in fact. Squid, that once when I had a 
blue streak on me because I ’d been fool enough 
to listen to one of those dreams ‘Rastus’ feasts 
on telling, I got up a will giving him half in- 
terest in the Fiji on condition he ’d make the 
other half interest provide well for the folks at 
home. 

315 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


“Gad, that lurch was nasty ! Sha ’s making 
bad weather of it, mighty bad ! Do you know, 
lad, in such a wind as this I alius get thinking 
of Runt. I ’ll never forget the run I made to 
Gloucester with the old Fiji the night I picked 
him up. Before that, eight miles an hour would 
have been flying for the old tub ; but I ’ve 
figured it since that, that night she made it 
eleven straight with never a break! That was 
my first Fiji, you know; not this new craft.” 

“Runt was nearly dead, was n’t he, Cap- 
tain?” 

“Not by a good deal, lad. Why, he was 
as much alive as we are this minute! You see, 
the little woman had snugged him up so tightly 
to her that he ’d not taken in any water. My 
supposition is that a broken mast held back 
their boat and kept it from going down with 
their craft. 

“I had a time of it loosening the grip she 
had on Runt, and she unconscious, you know; 
and when I did get him from her, his eyes just 
looked right up into mine; not scared a mite, 
mind you, but appealingly; and so it was I took 
to him on sight. Then, my first trip home after 
that, I vowed I ’d hang to him if I could, for 
he did look so wonderingly up at me, standing 
316 


RELENTLESS DAVY JONES 

six feet two in my socks, and he not up to my 
knees ! 

“Gad, no wonder I called him Runt! 

“He was a smart one, all right, lad; alius 
was ; but somehow he did n’t take to fishing. 
Maybe the mother had a hand in that, I do n’t 
know ; and anyway, if she did I do n’t blame 
her much after her own experience, you know, 
for at best, between the getting away and the 
getting back, there ’s nothing but uncertainty, 
and that reminds me. Squid, boy, that at St. 
John I learned that the craft I planned sending 
the boy away on evidently did n’t round the 
corner, even under good old Josiah Dix, as 
nothing has ever been heard from her since she 
left Rio. 

“Luck was with me there in more ways than 
one, I reckon, lad, for s’posing his mother 
had n’t rushed him away that night, in all likeli- 
hood I ’d never fouled with Bones, as I ’ve 
wanted to for years ; so then what I say now is, 
Lord bless the little woman for sending Runt 
away I 

“Aye, Lord bless her!’’ he repeated, medi- 
tatively; “Lord, bless her! A noble woman 
she is, lad; as true as the needle to the pole, 
and I ’m a better man to-day for having met 

317 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


her. It’s her influence for good, you know; 
for she does like to make a man have kind 
thoughts for the Great Pilot aloft. . . . Gad, 
I thought Davy had his grip on us that time, 
sure! Ha, ha! Well, all is, when he does 
call, are we ready for that haven the parson 
tells us a — ” 

“Ed!” 

Jim Pitt called sharply, and, closely fol- 
lowed by Charlie, the skipper went bounding 
up the companionway, not pausing even to seize 
his boots. 

“She ’s making a hard battle, Ed,” called 
the helmsman above the shrieking of the wind 
and the roaring of waves. “Something just 
gave way amidships ; so I had Jim call you.” 

“It ’s the foresheet traveler!” shouted Jim. 

“Glad you sent for me. Gene,” the skipper 
said, heartily. “You’ve got her just as she 
should be. It ’s nasty, but she ’ll stand to it, 
all right.” 

Then turning to Jim and Charlie, he called, 
“You two lads go for’ard and keep out of 
harm’s way — and mind you, cling hard to the 
weather rail!” 

Obeying orders, the two went forward, 
and Skipper Estey started into the waist to in- 
spect the damage. 


RELENTLESS DAVY JONES 

Suddenly a great wave thundered over the 
stern and went crashing toward the bow. 

“Runt I Runt I” 

Charlie heard a wild, frenzied scream off 
the bows. He was hanging to the railing for 
his very life, but in a moment of sickening hor- 
ror he seemed to know what had happened, and 
he uttered one frantic cry. 

“Man overboard 1” 

“Man overboard I” echoed Jim Pitt. 

“All hands on deck I” yelled Gene, even 
above the fury of the elements, and down went 
the wheel. 

The Fiji was going at a fifteen-knots clip, 
and well knew the helmsman that to round her 
to was risking not alone the carrying away of 
spars, but as well the loss of all hands; yet 
down, DOWN, DOWN it was jammed! 

Over, far over went the Fiji! 

Gene Paul, under a deluge of water, stuck 
to his post and kept the wheel jammed. 

Would she ever straighten up? 

A moment only of hesitation, as it were, 
then slowly yet surely up she came, tons of 
water sweeping her fore and aft, while great 
quantities went rushing down upon the men 
coming up the companionway. 

319 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


“What is it?’’ yelled Tom Dolbeare, the 
first man to appear. 

“Take the wheel!” Gene shouted, and as 
Tom gripped the spokes, Gene sprang among 
the other men, calling loudly, “Clear away the 
boat, lads; lively now; for God’s sake, lively! 
Ed^s gone overF* 


320 


CHAPTER XXXIV 


The Promise 

“Lucy, gal, will you come along with me?” 
the venerable captain pleaded, as the party sep- 
arated. “Come down to my eating house. Lin- 
coln will be there at noon, and I want you to 
meet him because he ’s my boy.” 

“I should like very much to go, father dear, 
but I feel it is my duty to hasten back to the 
old folks on the cape.” 

“Say, marm,” Runt interrupted, “let me fix 
up a program, please. You go with gran’dad 
now, and wait there till I call for you, and then 
we ’ll go to Gloucester together. Anyway, the 
Fiji is n’t in port yet.” 

“Edgar, my son, I want you, here and now, 
to make me a promise; will you?” 

“What is it, marm?’ 

“That so long as I live you will not follow 
the sea as a profession. These developments 
narrated in the courtroom have unnerved me. 
321 


21 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


Promise me, Edgar, or I shall never know a 
moment’s peace when you are away, and surely 
there has been enough of sorrow in my life.” 

The plea completely staggered Runt. 

‘‘Make that promise, Estey,” said a fa- 
miliar voice. 

“Why, Mr. Freeman!” Runt exclaimed, 
quickly rousing himself to grip the extended 
hand. “I thought you were — ” 

“On board ship, as you young sea dogs 
would say,” the clothier said, heartily. “Well, 
1 ’m not, Estey; I am right here. We had 
awful weather from the very start, and Mrs. 
Freeman simply could not stand the rolling, 
so we landed at Halifax and at once started 
by rail for Boston, arriving this morning. At 
the store Faxon gave me the news, so I im- 
mediately rushed away to see you. I met 
Bourne down by City Hall, and I told him to 
take a vacation until I sent for him. Mean- 
while Gorham will have a tryout as manager. 
He is a strictly honest, shrewd, level-headed 
fellow, and ought to fill the gap. I want a long 
talk with you, Estey; so then make the promise 
asked for by the lady, who, I suppose, is your 
mother, and then — ” 

“Mr. Freeman,” Runt interrupted, eagerly, 
“this is my mother. Marm, this is Mr. Free- 
322 


THE PROMISE 


man. Gran’dad,” he called, happily, “won’t 
you come and shake hands with my employer?’’ 

A short, pleasant chat followed. Suddenly 
the merchant exclaimed: 

“How about that promise, Estey? What 
was it, anyway — may I know?” 

“That so long as marm lives I ’ll not follow 
the sea as a profession,” Runt answered. His 
lip quivered as he spoke. 

“Make the promise, my boy; make her 
happy while you can. I heard her words to the 
effect that she had had a deal of sorrow in her 
life, and — ” 

“I make the promise, marm,” Runt broke 
in, as manfully as possible. “It comes hard, 
but I give you my word that while you live I ’ll 
work on shore.” 

“Thank you, Edgar.” 

A handclasp sealed the promise, and with 
beaming face Mrs. Wyndale took the arm prof- 
fered by Captain Ellis and started with him 
for his “eating house.” 

“You have made the little parent happy, 
and I ’m glad of it,” Mr. Freeman said, as to- 
gether they crossed Scollay Square, en route for 
the store. “We can not always have a mother 
with us, you know. Now then, tell me what 
has happened these last few days.” 

323 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


Runt ended his recital of events by saying : 
“It is marvelous, Mr. Freeman, how rapidly 
these things have taken place ! Why, sir, on 
some of them I ’ve been working hard for 
almost three months without the least result; 
yet at one turn every tangle is nearly straight- 
ened out! Is n’t it strange?” 

“Not so, Estey. Undoubtedly you have at 
times seen the one special piece which usually 
closes some great display of fireworks. The 
fuse is applied, and away it goes I Bombs burst, 
rockets glare, and all else follows with startling 
rapidity to a finish, for there is always the grand 
climax. In your case you have, as it were, ap- 
plied the fuse, and now in your life affairs the 
great vertical wheel, all ablaze, is spinning 
swiftly on, let us hope, toward some grand 
climax!” 

“Gracious, but that sounds fine! Thank 
you, Mr. Freeman!” Runt exclaimed, joyously. 
“According to that idea, sir, it ’s the man that 
applies the fuse who makes things happen, 
isn’t it?” 

“My gracious, just think of it ! In my case 
the fuse was applied, I guess, when Charlie and 
I rescued old Captain Ellis away down there in 
Provincetown harbor ! That ’s strange, is n’t it, 
sir? Yet everything seems to begin right there, 

324 


THE PROMISE 


for he surely is right up forward in all things 
that have been happening since. 

“Yet, Mr. Freeman, with all this so, as 
I look at it now, there is one thing that is more 
than strange, I think.’’ 

“Go on, Estey,” the clothier said, encour- 
agingly, as Runt seemed to hesitate. “I appre- 
ciate your enthusiasm fully, and as here on the 
public street we can not talk over the business 
proposition I have in mind for you, I am glad 
to hear you talk. Now then, what is it, my lad, 
seems to you more than strange, as you say?” 

“Just this, sir; that one man, Marvin, 
comes into the life of so many of my people. 
He robbed my captain father, you know, and as 
the result of that act eventually he goes back to 
Maine, and see what befell my own father in 
consequence ! 

“Then, fourteen years afterwards, I go to 
work in your store, and there he is again! It 
does seem more than strange, sure thing!” 

“Yet, Estey, from first to last it simply is 
true to nature’s laws; decidedly true!” Mr. 
Freeman declared, earnestly. “Cowper phrased 
my meaning exactly when he wrote, 

God moves in a mysterious way, 

His wonders to perform.’ 

325 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


Indeed He does, Estey, and when older you will 
perceive clearly all that Cowper’s great thought 
expresses. 

“It has been your province to show to us 
how God worked out His purposes through 
people and things ; to show how, by purely nat- 
ural processes, the most improbable, the most 
wonderful results were attained; for one of the 
results toward which natural law tends, Estey, 
is this ultimate victory of right over wrong. 

“Aha, we Ve arrived, have ye ? All right ; 
now my lad, I want a talk with you in the office, 
and when it is over, if I mistake not, you will 
be very glad you made the little mother happier 
because of your promise to her.“ 


326 


CHAPTER XXXV 

When the Cuckoo Cadis 

Within an hour after meeting Mr. Free- 
man, Runt stepped briskly from the store just 
as a dapper little man turned into the vestibule 
from the sidewalk. 

The old bell at Faneuil Hall was sounding 
an alarm of fire, and as in response several 
pieces of the “Flying Squadron” came tearing 
along Washington Street, together. Runt and 
the stranger rushed to the curbstone. 

“Great sight, isn’t it?” Runt exclaimed; 
and as the pleasant face of the stranger looked 
into his a warm wave of delight swept over the 
boy. Seized by a sudden impulse, he asked, 
“Are you the New York drummer who sent a 
man to the courthouse this morning?” 

“I am a traveling salesman, my young 
friend,” the stranger answered, extending his 
hand. “Yes, I did send a man up there, but I 
have just learned he was n’t needed. You know 
me, do you?” 

“It was only a guess,” Runt laughed. “I ’ve 

327 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


heard a great deal about you lately, as some in 
the store say we are counterparts.” 

“So, ho, then you are young Estey,” and 
even more cordially than before the stranger 
shook Runt’s hand. 

A strange feeling seized upon Runt. 
Eagerly, earnestly he scanned the man whose 
hand he held, and then, with a determined ef- 
fort, he controlled his feelings and asked: 

“May I talk alone with you a few mo- 
ments?” 

“Certainly, my young friend, certainly! I 
am free now until five o’clock sharp, and at 
your service, if you wish.” 

As they entered the store they passed the 
clothier, who warmly greeted the New Yorker. 

“I am anxious for a quiet talk with him, 
Mr. Freeman,” said Runt, earnestly. “May I 
have your private office a little while?” 

“There ’s nothing to prevent it, Estey. 
Stay as long as you please.” 

As the drummer seated himself in the big 
easy chair at the desk. Runt said : 

“Let me have one of your cards, will you 
please?” 

“I have only the house ad, but that will 
answer, I presume, as my name is in the lower 
left-hand corner.” 


328 


WHEN THE CUCKOO CALLS 


Runt took the extended card, his hand trem- 
bling as he did. 

“How does that name strike you, my young 
friend?” 

“Favorably,” Runt found voice to answer, 
while his brain was trying to evolve ways and 
means to put a question he felt must be an- 
swered, and as a leader he asked: 

“How did you get over that accident you 
had at Cutty hunk?” 

“Accident I Cuttyhunk I My young friend, 
have you ever seen me before?” 

“I think I have. How about the accident, 
please?” 

“Tell me first what you know about the 
matter.” 

“It was mentioned in court this morning.” 

“What I By whom?” 

“An old sea captain named Ellis; know 
him?” 

“Daniel Ellis ! Is he in Boston?” the drum- 
mer asked, now as excited as was Runt. “My 
young friend, proceed, please. I ’d give a thou- 
sand dollars to see that man, for he has some- 
thing that belongs to me that I ’d give all that 
I own in this world to regain!” 

“A watch?” 

“Yes, a watch. How did you know?” 

329 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


“I saw it in court this morning, and the pic- 
ture.” 

“That was my wdfe,” the drummer said, 
softly, as he again tossed himself into the big 
chair. “She and my baby boy were lost at sea 
many years ago. Tell me why, in heaven’s 
name, all this was brought up? I am com- 
pletely at your mercy!” 

“Cap’n Ellis was trying to convince the 
judge that the principal witness against me, 
Ames, was lying. You know Ames, of course ?” 

“Ames! Walter Ames!” the drummer 
shouted, wildly, leaping to his feet. “Yes, God 
knows that I know him, and to my bitter sor- 
row ! No man ever made a greater fool of him- 
self than I did through him! Yet now I hold 
him no ill-will for that — it was my own folly! 
What I have against him is that he did n’t stay 
in the boat with my wife and child. May God 
forgive him!” 

Tears streamed down the cheeks of the man 
as he spoke. 

Runt was himself fighting a battle for self- 
mastery, yet he managed to say, soothingly, 
“Pardon me for bringing up the matter.” 

“Certainly; do n’t mind my emotion. It ’s 
been many a long year since I ’ve given way to 
my feelings like this. I ’ll feel better for it, 

330 


WHEN THE CUCKOO CALLS 

perhaps, by and by. How old are you, my 
boy?” 

“Seventeen.” 

“So I thought. Had he been spared to me, 
my boy would have been just your age. Of 
course I can but think of him, too, as I see 
you sitting before me.” 

Runt almost collapsed, but he realized 
anew that he must in some way ascertain one 
thing before he could proceed with his rapidly 
forming plans to make things happen; so he 
said quietly : 

“Naturally, sir, I am deeply interested. It 
all seems so strange. As I understand it, this 
Ames drugged you and Cap’n Ellis and shipped 
you for Seattle. The cap’n escaped; how did 
you fare?” 

“How do you happen to know Ellis?” 

“He is one of the best friends I have in all 
this world!” Runt said, warmly. 

“So, ho, I see it now. Little wonder you 
have the v/hole history. Well, my dear boy, 
if Ellis is also your friend, I certainly shall an- 
swer your questions, for he surely proved him- 
self my friend and he had on me a strangely 
restraining influence at a time when sorrows 
had been fairly heaped on me. 

“We were, as they say on board ship, in 

331 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


the same watch. I liked him from the moment 
we met, and during our stay on the Raymond 
we became closely attached. His philosophy 
and his influence bettered me in those trying 
times. I can still remember two lines of his 
favorite song: 

“Though the hurricanes howl and the lightnings fly, 
There *s a rainbow will come when the storm goes by.” 

“There ’s a lot more to that song; I heard 
him sing it one morning while he was getting 
breakfast,’’ Runt said. 

“ ‘There ’s a rainbow will come when the 
storm goes by,’ — I ask if any thought could be 
more consoling to one whose dear ones had just 
been torn from him and who had been ruth- 
lessly robbed of every dollar he owned?” 

“Did you go to Seattle?” 

“Not on the T. H. Raymond, We touched 
at Frisco, and the captain was only too glad 
to put me off there, for I ’d long been to him 
a great care. At Frisco I was taken to a hos- 
pital, where a neat piece of trepanning was 
done, and my head has been all right ever since. 
Months had passed, but I worked my way to 
Seattle, and then to the gold fields. I hoped to 
waylay Ames. But I failed utterly.” 

332 


WHEN THE CUCKOO CALLS 


“He didn’t go a second time; I believe, 
perhaps he was afraid of meeting you,” Runt 
said. “He made a confession this morning, 
and I guess you ’ll be surprised to learn that he 
has never dared open your satchel of green- 
backs. He declared it was haunted. So much 
the better for you, sir. One of the police in- 
spectors has his trunk key; so, no doubt, by 
proving the property is yours, you ’ll get the 
original amount back. Did you do any min- 
ing?” 

“Well, but this is asounding news! But 
what object has Ames in telling all this?” 

Briefly Runt told him more, when the aston- 
ished drummer continued : “As to your question 
about my turning the old sod up there, I plead 
guilty. But, being only a farmer, I first had 
to learn a thing or two about the business. 
Then with my tools I climbed rocky hills for a 
year or more, and, although I studied all the 
records, I failed to discover Ames’s name or 
his find. I did, however, stumble on what I 
thought would be a good thing; but I want to 
tell you right here, my young friend, a miner 
knows only what he sees. When he says he ’s 
struck something rich, he simply infers it. 
’T was that way with my find, so I got out, 
and, disgusted with the whole business, went 
333 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


back to Frisco and invested what little I had in 
a haberdashery. The Mongolian, however, 
and his little brown brother got thicker than 
flies around a sugar barrel, and on top of this 
came the earthquake, and that left me again 
penniless. All of my mother’s people were 
seafarers, and, having some of her great fond- 
ness for the sea myself, I went under sail to 
Australia; one voyage, however, was enough 
for me, I being glad to again get back to the 
new Frisco of to-day; but I then flitted across 
the continent, where the wholesale house I had 
been dealing with when in business offered 
me their New England territory. But, my 
boy, enough of myself. What is your full 
name?” 

“The boys would answer, ‘Runt Estey!’ ” 

“ ‘Runt?’ I say, what a nickname that is! 
Stand up a moment, will you? Why, you’re 
almost my height.” 

“Is that a joke?” Runt asked, as a faint 
smile lit up his face. “I do n’t want to seem dis- 
respectful, sir, but I would like to know just 
what your height is.” 

The drummer, stretching himself to his full- 
est height, answered, good-naturedly: “Stand- 
ing erect in the best hosiery of our house, which 
is the very best in the country, I am just five 
334 


WHEN THE CUCKOO CALLS 


feet four and one-half inches. Ttiere, sir — 
how is that?” 

“I ’ll take your word for that, sir,” Runt 
replied, laughingly; “but just the same I ’ll say 
that for you to make that half inch must mean 
some hard stretching.” 

The sally pleased the New Yorker so much 
that Runt thought it was a good opportunity 
for him to put the all-important question that 
had never once left his mind. 

Quickly he asked, “Have you ever married 
again, sir?” 

“Married again?” the little man replied, 
chokingly. “No, my young friend. The man 
who knew, loved, won, and lost my wife could 
never marry again!” 

Runt could have shouted for joy, but he 
had formed his plans, so he said, calmly, “Can 
you meet me at three o’clock?” 

“At three it shall be, my dear boy; at three, 
sharp. Where shall It be?” 

“Ten Atlantic Avenue. It is a dining- 
room, and you will meet Captain Ellis and get 
back your watch. There Is a wonderful old 
cuckoo clock down there that I should like you 
to see, and if you will really be on hand at 
three sharp, you will hear it. You will not 
fail to come, will you, sir?” 

335 


ON AND OFF SHORE 

“Fail to cornel No, Runt; not, though to 
get there I must walk barefoot over broken 
glass I I see you are in somewhat of a hurry; 
so I ’ll say, for the present, good-bye I I can 
not tell you, dear Runt, how glad I am that 
we met, and rest assured I ’ll be at number ten 
when the cuckoo calls.” 


336 


CHAPTER XXXVI 


“A Great Finish!” 

“Marm! Gran’dadI If it were n’t for an 
awful bit of sad news, I could easily be the 
happiest boy in all the world ; but as it is, I am 
sick clear down into my boots I” Runt exclaimed 
as one dazed on entering the dining-room on 
the water-front, where his mother awaited his 
coming. 

Stepping quickly to his side as he tossed 
himself into a chair, Mrs. Wyndale said, ear- 
nestly, “Something dreadful has happened, Ed- 
gar. I know by your face; you are as white 
as a sheet. Tell mother about it, please!” 

Slowly drawing a telegram from a pocket. 
Runt said, chokingly, “The Fiji has docked with 
her flag half-masted, Marm, the first time for 
years.” 

Mrs. Wyndale paled, yet asked, calmly, 
“How many are lost?” 

“Just one!” 

“Who, Edgar; not the captain, surely?” 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


“Yes, marm, it was hel” Runt said, after 
choking back the great lump that came into his 
throat. “Gene Paul sent me the message, and 
you know that means there can be no mistake 1 
Charlie made a big try to save him, for Gene 
says he would have jumped into a raging sea 
to do it had not Jim Pitt held him back by 
main force. All hands saw him go down, and 
the last word he uttered was, ‘Runt!’ ” 

Mrs. Wyndale seemed too bewildered for 
words, and the old captain, taking the hands 
of the trembling boy within his own weather- 
beaten palms, said, soothingly: “Gran’son, it ’s 
all a part of the life of a sailor. Ev’ry bit of 
it; and they, all of them, had sooner end their 
life-voyage that way than any other. By this 
time he has crossed the bar and dropped anchor 
in the final haven, happier than ever he would 
be down here; so cheer up, gran’son, and read 
us the happier page from your log-book that 
you hinted at having, but for the sad page.” 

Controlling his emotions with a masterful 
effort. Runt said, bravely: “We ’ll talk this over 
on the train, marm. Yes, gran’dad, there is a 
brighter page on my log: Mr. Freeman has 
offered me a better position in the store, but I 
am to finish my schooling before taking hold in 
earnest, though I must still do the ‘ad’-writing 

338 


A GREAT FINISH! 


and be on hand to help out each Saturday. 
How’s that, eh?” 

“It ’s a wonderful piece of good fortune, 
gran’son; wonderful, isn’t it, Lucy?” 

“Yes, I think it is,” Runt’s mother said, 
proudly, as she gazed fondly on her boy. “But, 
my son, do n’t you think we had better be start- 
ing? The cuckoo over there will call again 
soon, and I hope we can take the three-twenty 
train, for surely the old folks will need us in 
this very sad hour. It is but our duty, you 
know.” 

“Say, marm, there is some business that 
must be attended to first; so, then, under the 
circumstances we will have to wait for the five- 
thirty train, and in the end I know you wont 
be sorry we waited. First, though, I must tell 
you that about an hour ago Charlie called us 
up on the telephone, and our cashier was the 
one to answer. The poor fellow is so broken 
up over the awful fate of my captain father 
that he will at once return to work at the store, 
a fact which Mr. Freeman will appreciate 
hugely, I assure you, and it will make me hap- 
pier there, too ; see ? Strange, is n’t it, every- 
thing comes out right, just for- — ” 

“Having pluck!^^ interrupted his mother. 
“You ’ve done well, Edgar, and you really have 
339 


ON AND OFF SHORE 


made things happen! It proves, however, 
what a firm determination will accomplish I 
This dear old father of mine and I have been 
planning how best we can go on tracing your — ” 

“Leave all that to me, will you, please, 
marm?” Runt pleaded, with such earnestness 
that his mother said, quickly: 

“It was only for your sake, Edgar, that 
we were planning, for I know my boy well 
enough to be sure that now he will never rest 
until fully satisfied as to the fate of his father. 
Look, it is almost three o’clock. The cuckoo 
will call again in a moment; I love to hear it!” 

“Gran’ dad, will you please give me a cup 
of hot cocoa?” Runt asked, in shaking tones. 

“Sartin, gran’son ; sartin ! ’T will be like 
a tonic to you; I ’d ought to have thought of it 
myself!” and quickly the captain went to the 
kitchen, followed closely by Runt. 

“Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo!” 

The street-door opened, and Mrs. Wyndale 
looked around. 

“Jason! O, Jason! After all these years 
of utter hopelessness!” 

Mrs. Wyndale rushed into the outstretched 
arms of her husband. 

“God be praised!” Runt’s father exclaimed, 
fervently, as he clasped his arms lovingly about 

340 


A GREAT FINISH! 


the little woman. “God be praised! At last I 
see the rainbow, the glorious rainbow! Lucy! 
my own, own Lucy ! I see it all now, dear wife ; 
this means that the boy. Runt, is my own, own 
son! Yet again I say, God be praised!” 

At the first glad cry Captain Ellis turned to 
investigate, but Runt held him back, saying, 
eagerly : 

“Stay with me just a moment, gran’dad. 
It is my own father. I knew it I Sure enough 
I have made things happen, have n’t I ? It ’s 
a great finish!” 


341 


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